


The Madman and the Labyrinth

by CaptainAmelia22



Category: Marvel, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mythology - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-29
Updated: 2012-11-03
Packaged: 2017-11-15 07:24:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 41,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/524678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainAmelia22/pseuds/CaptainAmelia22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For millennia the labyrinth has appeared within cultures serving as religious totems, objects for meditation or reflection. But some of the earlier labyrinths had a different use:  Prisons.  They served to contain evil spirits, horned monsters to sacrifice maidens to or criminals of such infamy no four-walled jail cell could ever hope to contain them.  One such is the Völundarhús, upon the shores of Asgard, and it's darkened spirals are soon to be haunted by the All Father's wayward son Loki.  </p><p>This is a story that blends Marvel canon with Norse legend and it got its inspiration from the Greek Legend of the Minotaur and Ariadne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

"You Theseus will go to the haven of Cecrops; but when you have been received back home, and have stood in pride before your thronging followers, gloriously telling the death of the man-and-bull, the Minotauros, and of the halls of rock cut out in winding ways, tell, too, of me, Ariadne, abandoned on a solitary shore."~ Ovid from Heroides

**

Asgard was a land of light and soaring towers. On the surface it seemed blessed, perfect, like nothing evil could ever touch its golden heights. But then Odin, All Father, went to war against the barbarians of Jotunheim. That was when darkness fell over the golden city. For the All Father, despite his wisdom, brought back a Jotun babe and cursed his line for eternity. 

As the child grew, his frost giant nature became known to his foster parents. They watched him warily, hoping their golden son, Thor, would help vanquish Loki’s dark nature. But in retrospect, some say the golden child was what drove Loki to madness and to hate. 

For who could love an orphan frost giant when the glorious Thor was your elder brother and the heir to all that Asgard had to offer?

**

Odin gazed at his adopted son in sadness. He had failed as a father, as a guardian. Men and women had died because of his lack of compassion for his youngest son. He could see this now; his beloved son, Thor, had begged him to realize the truth and eventually he had. But this did not mean Loki should be vindicated. He had committed heinous crimes, partnered with the scavengers of the Nine Realms and brought an army upon an innocent world. His actions were not pardonable. 

“Loki Odinson, you stand before this tribunal as punishment for the deeds you committed against the mortals of Midgard. Do you renounce the acts you have done and do you ask this council for their forgiveness?” 

There was no answer from the kneeling criminal. The tribunal, lining the walls of the Hall of Memory, shifted and muttered in irritation.

“Betrayer, your answer would be greatly appreciated,” snapped Heimdall, the gatekeeper. He towered over the kneeling dark haired god, his golden sword resting ominously close to the frost giant’s cheek. 

The object of the tribunal’s judgment started to laugh, “All Father, what makes you believe I will ask for your forgiveness? I owe nothing to you. You or your perfect, golden family.” He raised his head and spat at Odin. Thor, standing beside his father, shifted ominously, his grip tightening on the hammer Mjolnir’s staff. 

“You forget yourself brother,” he growled. “This tribunal is put in place to determine what your punishment will be. If you do not act with more decorum they may decide to execute you, once and for all.” His blue eyes gazed at his younger brother sadly. 

Loki laughed bitterly, “Well, let them get it over with then. I have no desire to wallow in your presence any longer, brother. Death would relieve me of perusing your face and free me of these false beliefs of family. As I told you on your precious Earth, I am not your brother!” He screamed this last, his dark eyes wild and his face twisted in a snarl. 

Odin, in his golden throne, sighed and rested his head briefly on his gauntleted fist. “Very well,” he said softly. “The tribunal will decide your fate. Since you do not renounce your monstrous actions we will imprison you until the council decides a suitable punishment. Be gone, Loki Laufeyson.” All Father waved his staff and the chains of Loki’s imprisonment once more appeared and his mouth was gagged. 

Heimdall grabbed the traitor firmly by his upper arm and hauled him upright. Loki glared angrily at the ones who loved him and tried once more to muster his magic. It did not work. The All Father’s chains were too tightly bound and the gag covering his face too powerfully enchanted. 

And so Loki, the god of mischief was hauled to an inner prison to await the Asgardian tribunal’s judgment. As he wallowed in his cage he reflected, briefly on his failed attempt at conquering Midgard. He winced involuntarily at the memory of the green ogre thoroughly thrashing him. He had not expected that of a mortal. In fact…All of those mortals, his brother’s friends, they had been nothing like he had expected.

The Master would not be pleased. 

Loki shivered and leaned against the wall, forcing the thoughts of his battle with the Avengers and how his Master would react, out of his mind. Instead he concentrated on his magic, hoping some spell, some enchantment would weaken Odin’s bonds. 

He was concentrating so hard he did not hear the guards coming for him. 

“Loki Laufeyson, you are here-by ordered to come before the All Father and the tribunal to receive your punishment,” one of the guards commanded. 

Loki rolled his eyes; did he have much of a choice at this point? 

The guards took this as agreement and hauled him upright. Once more the god of mischief was dragged before his golden family and the cold eyed tribunal. He wrenched himself free of the guards and stood upright. Odin and Thor gazed at him sadly while Thor’s band of warriors scowled, fingering their weapons. Loki felt his heart drop; they did not look pleased. So no death today. He smiled around the gag and once more let his dark magic trickle down the chains holding his arms. 

“Your magic will not work here Loki,” sighed the All Father. He did not remove the bonds on his youngest son; instead he stood. 

“The tribunal has come to a decision as to what your fate will be, Loki Laufeyson. Will you hear it?” He rested his hands on his staff and waited for his son to respond. 

Loki rolled his eyes again and shrugged. 

Odin continued, “Loki Laufeyson, for the horrific crimes you have committed against the people of Earth, for consorting with known criminals and for betraying the house of Odin I hereby relieve you of your power,” he tapped his staff and Loki felt his magic begin to drain away. “And I remove your name from the ancestral halls of this family. As the tribunal decrees I forever banish you to the Völundarhús.” He slammed his staff once more on the marble floors of the Hall of Memory and Loki felt his heart freeze. 

Before he could blink, his vision went dark and he felt cold hands grab him by throat and by ankle. He thrashed furiously, to no avail. When his vision cleared he was in the Völundarhús, the Maze of Eternity. And all was very, very silent. 

“Curse you Odin,” he snarled gazing around the stone walls imprisoning him. Glancing into the black firmament above him he snarled and raised his suddenly freed wrist, “Curse you, Odin!” he screamed before sagging to the floor of the labyrinth. 

And there he stayed, forever more. With no companions, no love and no hope for redemption, the God of Mischief wallowed in Odin All Father’s clever prison. 

Until the day she came…


	2. Eira

In battle, it is not considered honorable to retreat before one’s enemy. This belief had been pounded into every Asgardian child’s mind from the moment they began their military training until they actually set foot on the field of battle. Of course, every war is different and one’s enemy may not always be carrying a sword. They could be carrying a ceremonial torque and a robe of pure white silk woven from a Valkyrie’s winged steed’s tail. 

Eira Balderdottr reflected on this as she slipped through the golden passages of the Halls of Asgard unseen and unnoticed. Retreat was entirely honorable if you were about to be sold off to an ancient warrior of immeasurable girth. It did not matter that he was the friend of her beloved uncle, Thor All Father. He was distasteful and smelly, and she would not wear his torque around her neck and sleep in his bed. 

She shuddered at the memory of his pudgy hands stroking her arm last night at their betrothal feast. Volstagg had once been a mighty warrior in the Asgardian knights, The Warriors Three, but extensive feasting and a decided lack of ichor in his veins, meant the tubby soldier had aged much faster than his companions. She scowled and thought to herself, why couldn’t my father and uncle have given me to some other of their friends? Fandral is by far more desirable than Volstagg. Although, she paused, hiding behind a pillar as a squad of guards marched by in their ceremonial garb; he and Hogun always seem to be together. And Fandral is much too frilly for my taste, I suppose. Why does he wear so many furs and silks? And his beard! I’ve seen him gaze into spoons so he can quaff it just right. 

She almost laughed out loud at that thought but clapped her hand over her mouth before it could slip out. Glancing once more around the pillar, she saw the coast was clear and ran the last few feet out of the palace. Breathing a sigh of relief she wrapped her dark cloak more tightly around her. She hoped her father would not notice it missing; she had stolen it only because she was more similar in height to him than to her mother, Sif. 

She shifted uncomfortably at the thought of her mother. Sif was a powerful warrior in Asgard’s army. She had fought many extraordinary battles alongside her uncle Thor and her father but it had been her idea to tie her eldest daughter to one of her closest companions. 

Which meant she and Eira were not on the best of terms as of right now. The halls of her father had rung with their shouts after Sif and Balder had announced her betrothal. Eira had dissolved into hysterics, entirely not honorable for a member of the Valkyrie. But being forced into a marriage not of her liking? That was at the height of dishonor. She had locked herself in her bedchamber for days, refusing to speak to any, including her uncle. 

Thor All Father had threatened her with everything from using the Odinpower to break down her door, to the clipping of her beloved Arlor’s wings. 

That last had her opening the door. She had stood before her uncle, her eyes puffy with tears, and finally agreed to her parent’s decree. On one condition: She would keep her post in the House of Healers and she would reside in her parent’s apartments until the night of her wedding. 

Her uncle had agreed and forced his stepbrother and his wife to agree as well. They had huffed; no decent Asgardian woman resided with her parents once the betrothal had been agreed to! 

But Eira was firm. And so they agreed. She had closed her door once more and only emerged to break her fast in the morning and to leave for her training with the Valkyrie in the evening. She did not speak with her parents or her brothers and she did not reside in the Hall of Games like the other young Asgardian’s. Instead she disguised herself and visited the Hall of Records. 

She needed a plan, a plan to escape this distasteful marriage. As she perused the precious Scrolls of Memory she finally came up with one. 

Her uncle was always visiting Midgard, which he considered under his protection. Why couldn’t she visit the realm as well? She had never left Asgard, had never even seen a Jotun or a Dark Elf! Maybe it was time to cut herself free from the golden splendor of Asgard and experience mortality for a while. 

So that was her plan. She would disguise herself, saddle a horse and ride the rainbow bridge to petition Heimdall. He would have to let her go! How could he refuse? All knew how distasteful this marriage was and all knew her dislike of Volstagg. He would let her go because he was an honorable guardian and the protector of the All Father’s mighty clan. 

Now, though, she wasn’t so sure about her brilliant plan. As Eira slowed her borrowed horse before the mighty guardian, he turned his all-seeing tawny eyes upon her and spoke in his deep voice, “Greetings Eir, healer of old wounds. I see you are preparing to travel.” 

Eira frowned at the odd title and swung off of the horse’s back. “Heimdall, it is I, Eira Balderdottr. Do you not know me?” She walked hesitantly towards the guardian, who stood at his post before the Observatory, leaning on his giant golden sword. 

His golden eyes froze her in her tracks and he spoke again, “I see all, goddess and I know who you are. Eir you are and Eir you will become.” He smiled and something shifted in his eyes. “Where do you wish to go, Healer?” 

Her frown deepened and she fiddled with her dagger, “I, um, want to go to some realm where I am needed,” she said, meeting Heimdall’s lambent gaze. “Please,” she finished weakly. What am I doing?! She thought, suddenly panicked. This is a foolish plan, you stupid girl! Return to the halls of your fathers and do your duty as a Princess of Asgard!

She firmed her jaw and shoved her worries away. The Guardian smiled, knowingly and beckoned her into the Observatory. 

“Come, Princess. I will send you where you need to go,” he said as he mounted the steps leading to the portal. 

Eira hesitated and glanced once more at the palace she had left. She gulped and glanced at the golden-plated Guardian, “Heimdall, may I take Arlor with me?” Her hands tightened on her hawk’s traces; he had been a gift from her father upon her last name-day. She did not want to leave him in Asgard.

The Guardian nodded, “Yes, my lady, the mighty Arlor may be needed where you are going.” 

She sighed and relaxed as her precious hawk tightened his clutch on her shoulder as she walked to the Birfrost’s entrance. Gazing into its black maw she trembled, “Heimdall,” she called back at the sound of the sword sliding slowly into the plinth. “Where are you sending me?” Her eyes widened at the sight of the portal slowly starting to spin. Fine bolts of lightning crackled through the air and she felt her body thrumming with its power. Arlor clicked his beak nervously, but she soothed him quickly. “Heimdall! Tell me! Where do I go?” She glanced at the Guardian and he smiled, the last sight she saw of Asgard she had. 

Before she disappeared into the unknown, though, she heard his deep voice say soothingly, “You go only where you are needed to go, Lady Eir. Only where you are needed.”


	3. A Visitor

Loki Laufeyson knew his prison backwards and forwards days into his imprisonment. He viewed it indulgently; after all, he was Loki, the God of Mischief and the rightful King of Asgard. No prison of Odin’s design would hold him for long. He scoffed at the idea of the All Father surrounding him with stone. Stone could break, crack and age. The mortals on Earth had had a better contraption meant for imprisoning their green beast. 

But Loki had to admit, twenty years into his imprisonment, this maze of twisted stone and the utter silence of the firmament above was actually one of the better prisons he had ever graced. 

Being an immortal he did not require food on a daily basis; Odin and then Thor took this into consideration. Twenty years had gone by and the only sustenance he had consumed had been a single Apple of Immortality on the anniversary of his imprisonment. This was a clever move on both of the All Father’s parts; it kept him weak, nearly mortal. The ichor in his veins did not let him starve, but if any of his old friends would see him now they would not recognize him.

Loki had aged. His face had become lined, his black hair streaked with grey. But his dark eyes still sparkled with his old fury and despite the solitude, his mind was still relatively intact. Relatively.

As the years dragged by, he prowled the maze, trailing his fingers along the stone and he tried to find his old power. But the magic was gone, the words wiped from his memory. Odin had done his work well. The Asgardian’s had learned how to control him. Loki often felt like he should issue his congratulations to his idiot foster father and brother on this note. But that may result in worse punishment. And Loki did not like thinking about what else the All Father and his successor could come up with. 

Twenty years into his imprisonment, nearly to the day, he was sitting in the center of his labyrinth, thinking. It was nearing the time for Balder to arrive with his annual Apple. He sneered at the soft growling his stomach made at the thought of sustenance. He was Loki, a god; food was a mediocrity. 

But this did not stop his mind from wandering, as it did so often this time of year, to the food he had consumed on Midgard. He hated himself for the way his mouth began to water at the thought of fried sausages and that bracing drink the mortals consumed on a daily basis. Sighing, he muttered to himself, “I could do with a coffee, right about now.” 

He was involuntarily reflecting on mortal dishes and salivating, when he sensed a disturbance in the labyrinth. A soft breeze whipped his lank hair as the walls seemed to tighten around him and the deep, encroaching firmament above crept closer to his head. 

Loki flinched and sharpened his senses; it could not be Balder, it was not time for his Apple yet. So who could it be?

He stood and shivered at the closed-in atmosphere the labyrinth had taken on. It seemed to be waiting for something; he imagined a soldier holding his breath before charging towards his enemy. He shuddered again at the thought and edged towards one of the entrances of the central twist. 

Someone was here, someone who shouldn’t be here. Was it Thor? Had his brother finally braved his presence? 

Loki couldn’t resist a small flicker of hope from growing in his chest at that thought. Then he sneered and his eyes hardened. His dear golden brother could just go to Valhalla. He, Loki Laufeyson, would rather die than talk to his sworn enemy. 

But this thought didn’t stop him from easing into the labyrinth, his senses scrying for the intruder in his twisted, stone prison. If it was Thor…

**

When Eira was sucked into the Birfrost everything went dark before what felt like hundreds of cold hands clutched her throat and ankles and dragged her through the gloom. She screamed and thrashed, trying to break free of the phantom clutches but to no avail. Her senses were stifled and she couldn’t breathe or move. She didn’t even know if Arlor was still with her. 

Heimdall, she screamed in her mind as she was hurled through space, what have you done?! 

You go only where you are needed to go, Lady Eir. Only where you are needed, he whispered and she moaned, tears streaming down her face.

As the Guardian’s words faded, she slammed into a granite floor. Arlor landed next to her, slightly more graceful than his owner due to his wide wing span and keen battle senses. Eira rolled onto her back, coughing and hacking as she tried to catch her breath. It took her a few moments to get her bearings. Her body felt like it had been smashed by Mjolnir and then squeezed through a small tube. 

“By all the gods,” she swore, breathlessly, “Where has he sent me?!” 

Her wide gray eyes took in the walls surrounding her and Arlor, who was standing protectively over her, his wings at rest. She seemed to be in a chamber made of onyx flecked granite; there were no doors, no windows. Just the walls and above-she gasped her eyes wide at the sight above her. 

Dark night loomed over this odd place; stars and galaxies spun above but they were so faint, so faded they barely registered in her sight. Where in the Nine Realms had she been sent?

**

He couldn’t believe his eyes; a girl and her bird of prey had arrived in his prison. And by the bewildered look on her face, he assumed it had not been by her design. His eyes narrowed and he hugged himself closer to the wall; so why was she here? Had Thor tired of him? Had the tribunal been reconvened and decided it was too much trouble keeping this prison and its single prisoner?

What is the meaning of this? He snarled, silently. 

He watched the girl gather herself and start assessing her situation; she ran her long-fingered hands quickly over her hawk’s wings and checked the satchel she had slung over her shoulder. He wondered, idly, if she had any supplies in her bag; his stomach rumbled heartily at that thought and he flinched. But she did not hear. She was checking her weapons now. His eyes widened at the sight of the maiden’s short sword strapped to her hip. Maybe she is my executioner, he thought fearfully. 

But that did not seem right; he did not know this girl, her hair was dark as night which meant she was most likely not from his extensive adopted family. And, she was too young; she probably had not even been born when he fell through the void. 

Loki jumped when she began to speak, “That damned Guardian. I think he’s playing a joke on us Arlor. Why would he send me here? This is definitely not Midgard. I do not even think it is part of the Nine Realms!” She sighed and he edged closer, still keeping to shadows of one of the walls. “And why did he insist on calling me Eir? He’s known me since I was a babe.” 

Loki’s eyebrows shot up at that last, Eir? The Lost Goddess?! Suddenly he became very, very interested in his new visitor. 

Before he could decide what to do about this latest development though, she tensed and in one fluid motion drew her sword, pivoted and leveled her blade at his throat. Without his realizing, he had crept closer to her during his musings. 

Loki blinked at the maid over the shining blade pricking his throat and slowly raised his hands. 

“Hello,” was all he said before she smashed the hilt of her sword into the side of his head. 

He crumpled as everything went black. Well, damn, he thought, vaguely, She is just as fast with a blade as Sif…

And then he knew no more.


	4. The Traitor and the Princess

Loki jerked awake suddenly; his head swirled and he groaned as he pressed a shaking palm to his temple. “That bitch,” he snarled, his face twisting into a mask of rage. He sat up and prepared to take his revenge. 

She was gone. 

He glanced around the labyrinth wildly; where could she have gone?! He’d only been out for a few seconds. Hadn’t he? His dark eyes narrowed as he realized the twist he was in had darkened. It was evening.

“Lovely,” he snarled as he hauled himself up using the stones of the wall he’d fallen against as leverage. He would have to get to the center of the labyrinth if he wished to survive the terrors of the maze. He couldn’t help the sneer on his lips as he hurried through the darkening maze, Odin thought he was so wise, that the terrors of the maze would break me. But he was wrong! At the sound of claws dragging on the floor behind him though he paled and hurried his stride. 

The maze may not have broken him yet but that did not mean he wanted to relive the nightmares it so readily had waiting for him. 

He took the memorized route, the quickest, to the center of the labyrinth and breathed a sigh of relief. He had beat the All Father once again; a small victory in the scheme of things, but a victory nonetheless. 

Just as he was relaxing for another long night of meditation a piercing scream rent the still air. 

Loki sighed and rolled his eyes. The girl had not escaped the labyrinth. She was out there experiencing all of the glories of the Völundarhús. “Let her rot,” he snarled, “If she is of Asgard and if she is of my brother’s golden clan then that is what she deserves; death at the hands of the All Father’s creations.” He firmed his resolve as darkness slid outside of the golden center of the maze. 

He had almost forgotten the girl when another scream pierced his ears and he sighed, dropping his head in his hands. By the Master, he swore to himself, his eyes clenched closed. What am I doing?!

Before he stopped to answer that question he stood and dove into the darkness of the labyrinth. His fingers trailed along the wall and he ignored the shadow’s claws; where was the troublesome child? His eyes strained to see through the gloom but as usual he failed. So he listened intently, his senses reaching out and scrying for his visitor. 

He sighed. He had found her; in the one twist of the labyrinth he never visited, even during the day. “Damn,” he said softly. He glanced back the way he had come and sighed once more. Black shadows swirled and he swore golden eyes blinked at him; that way was closed to him, then. “Damn,” he repeated and headed for the one part of the labyrinth he was truly terrified of. 

**

Eira was terrified. Nothing the Healers had ever taught her could have prepared her for this. 

She was curled into a ball against the maze wall with her hands over her head; a towering golden figure stood over her snarling horrible things at her and she did not know how to escape it. Her sword lay abandoned beside her and Arlor had flown away the moment she had screamed; she did not know where he had gone. Eira just focused on not losing her faculties. 

“YOU HAVE BETRAYED THE HOUSE OF ODIN! YOUR MISDEEDS HAVE SHAMED ME, HAVE SHAMED YOUR BROTHER! HOW DARE YOU CONSORT WITH THE CHITAURI AND ATTACK THE REALM OF MIDGARD? YOU HAVE FAILED ME, MY SON! FAILED THIS FAMILY! I CURSE YOU, CURSE YOU FOR ALL ETERNITY!” 

She shuddered as the thundering voice drew closer. She could not run from him; she had tried but she had found a hall with worse creatures just beyond this twist. Just as she was about to scream again she heard a quiet voice say, “Leave the child be father, your quarrel is with me, not her.” 

Thankfully the voice was silenced and she raised her head to see this newcomer. It was the man she had knocked unconscious with her blade. He was old, with grey flecked black hair and his dark eyes were full of shadows. He looked vaguely familiar but she did not think he was one of her extensive family. And even if he was, why would he be in this nightmare prison? 

Loki glanced at the girl; her gray eyes were wide and terrified and she seemed diminished in stature now that Odin had attacked her. He glanced tentatively at the golden apparition standing before him and sneered. “Hello father,” he said sarcastically, “I believe I am the one you wish to threaten.” 

The apparition flickered and Odin blinked his eye at his foster son before saying, marginally quieter, “Loki, you have betrayed me and I shall never forgive you.” 

Loki shrugged and picked up the girl’s sword; she shrank away from him, her eyes still wide and terrified. He glared at her for a second and then swung the sword through the ghost of Odin All Father. “And I shall never forgive you, father, for the childhood you and your golden family destroyed,” he snarled, the sword sliding through the ghost and crashing into the granite floor. Sparks flew and the sword made a jagged scratch in the floor. 

He sighed. This attack had been less violent than one’s in the past. He stared at the scratch in the floor and reflected on his father’s words. He would never receive forgiveness for the sins he had committed. There was no way to reconcile with the All Father. He was gone now and he, Loki, would be stuck in this hell for the rest of his existence…

Her quiet voice jerked him out of his musings and he jumped, “My thanks,” she said softly and he stared at her. There was something about this child; her grey eyes were wide in the gloom of the maze but she had obviously not lost her mind to the terrors of the prison. Loki was impressed; not even Balder or Thor came to the labyrinth when evening drew nigh. 

As he stared at her, she shifted and finally stood. Loki took an involuntary step back, still holding her blade. Her eyes flickered over him, briefly resting on the sword and then she raised her eyes back to his. “Who are you that Odin All Father curses you so?” Her quiet voice rang in the hall and he shivered. 

She was watching him warily, leaning heavily on the wall of the maze as he tried to recall his manners.

Finally he nodded and he executed a stiff bow, “I am the Realm’s greatest traitor. I welcome you to my personal hell, Healer.” 

She narrowed her eyes, “How do you know what I am?” she asked warily.

Loki gestured to the blue tunic she wore, “You wear the garb of the Healers of Asgard. It was an easy assumption to make.” He turned to leave this cursed twist of the labyrinth and she followed, scrambling to keep pace with him. His lips lifted in his old sneer as he glanced over his shoulder at her. “Although, you are a far younger Healer than any I have come across. How old are you child? Seventeen Midgardian years?” He laughed, a brittle scraping sound in the still labyrinth and she flinched.

“I am not so young as that. I was born the year of the second Bifrost! The last year of Odin’s reign. Do not mock me, traitor.” Her voice was cold and as haughty as any Asgardian’s. 

Loki snorted as he peeked around the corner of one twist of the labyrinth and he said coldly, “That is very young, child. You have but barely scraped the surface of our longevity.” Finding the way clear he hurried down the dark hall, his ears pricked for any sound of attack; this was the stretch with the eight legged Midgardian insects his brother so loathed and while he found them disgusting, he did not fear them. They were rather annoying if they got caught in his hair though, and he didn’t fancy the girl walking beside him would enjoy the little beasties crawling under her clothes.

Although, how could he blame them if they did?

His dark eyes sparkled with secret mirth as he scanned the girl; she reminded him so very much of the lusty maidens of his youth. Even Amora could not boast of so voluptuous a body. 

“Did you really plan on visiting Midgard in that garb, child?” he said, his voice coldly judgmental. 

She glanced at herself and then looked to him, her brow furrowed in consternation, “Is this not what the mortals wear?” 

Loki stopped and stared at her, for once not worried of the dangers the Labyrinth had to offer and then, for the first time in twenty years, he laughed. 

“Child,” he gasped when his mirth ran its course, “You are just as clueless as Thor.” 

She glared at him as he resumed his journey through the labyrinth and snapped at his retreating back, “I do not care for your jesting, traitor. Thor is the All Father and he is my uncle. I will not stand idly by as you insult him.” 

Loki paused, a mere three paces from the center of the Labyrinth and safety and leveled the girl’s sword at her throat. “What did you say, girl?” he snarled, his dark eyes seething with fury. 

His little visitor froze, her gray eyes widening in terror and she raised her shield between them, “Release my sword! It is not for your hands and I loathe seeing it held against me!”

He sneered and ducked under her guard. “Answer me, wench!” he snarled as he buried his hand in her dark tresses and jerked her head back to bare her pale throat.

She spat at him and choked out, “Release me this instant. I am a princess of Asgard and I do not take lightly this rough handling!” She wriggled in his grip and he tightened his hold on her; she cried out and the fine muscles in her throat rippled as she swallowed nervously.

Loki, despite his fury, found himself reveling in this girl’s struggling body; how he had missed this. Forcing those weaker than him to his will…

Before he could revel any further though, her booted foot caught him behind the knee and he tumbled to the ground in an indecorous heap. He rolled, prepared to spring up and battle the girl, but once more she had him incapacitated. Her knee landed on his throat, choking him and her hands grasped his which held her blade and she pried his fingers free.

“You will not hold me thus again, bastard,” she snarled, her body trembling with fury. She sheathed her sword, her knee still pressed to his throat pinning him and she grabbed his chin. “I know not who you are and I know not what this place is, but I loathe it and I loathe you. Your touch is vile and your tongue is dirty! You are an abhorrent piece of dirt and if the All Father curses you then I curse you too.” She shook his chin as his vision began to fade and she spat in his face, “I leave you to rot, filth.” Then, as he was on the verge of unconsciousness she stood and began to pace away.

His rasping laugh stopped her though and she turned hesitantly towards him as he choked out, “Where do you go, maid? This prison is absolute! Only the All Father and his brother know the ways to and from. Your precious Heimdall cannot rescue you now.” He sneered at the shock on her face and he waved a hand around him, “Even now the creatures of this hell creep upon us, child. Can you not hear them? Soon you will know the fury of Odin and Thor and if you are as strong as you say you are, you may last the night. May,” he said, laughing as he pulled himself upright. “But I highly doubt it,” he finished. He rested against the wall, panting and smiling at her discomfiture. 

Her dark tresses tumbled around her face and dirt smudged her cheek; it was oddly endearing seeing such a fierce maid trembling in terror and he found himself softening to her plight. Sighing, he closed his eyes and said, “If you promise not to bash my head in or to call me names, princess, I will lead you to the relative safety at the center of the maze and you may spend the night in some comfort.” He peeked at her through his eyelashes and watched her chew her lip nervously. She was tense; she heard the creatures of the maze coming for them and having experienced one of the terrors herself she knew he did not jest when he said she may not survive another. “Come child, decide quickly. The beasts of this twist near and I find myself loathing the thought of their hairy legs clawing through my hair.” He sneered as she paled; that had her decided then. 

Hauling himself upright he moved past her to lead her to his sanctuary; she hesitated for a brief moment and then followed him. His lips lifted in the barest hint of a smile at the sound of her booted feet scuffing the granite behind him and he said silkily, “If you are to spend the night with me, wench, I should know your name.” He wondered who’s ilk she was; she was not tow-headed so she was not one of his brother’s many golden bastards. Was she Balder’s spawn then? 

Her quiet voice drifted around him as he led her into the center of the labyrinth and he froze, “I am Eira Balderdottr. The eldest daughter of Sif and Balder.” 

He turned to her as they entered the granite room in the middle of the Völundarhús and he executed a courtly bow, “Welcome Princess, to the Labyrinth of Eternity. I am sure your sojourn will be just as restful as mine.” Before she could respond and before he could register the shocked expression on her face he turned and threw himself elegantly upon the cushions clustered upon the floor. 

She stared at him and tugged her cloak tightly about her; she swallowed, making those muscles in her throat once more ripple becomingly and she said, her voice suddenly small, “Who are you, truly?”

He gazed at her, his face shadowed and then he threw his arms wide, “I, beautiful princess? I am the greatest traitor your golden realm has ever spawned! I am the son the kings of Asgard never speak of! I am the god whom the mortals of Midgard fear!” His lips twisted in a feral snarl and she quailed at the darkness in his eyes.

“I am Loki Laufeyson and I am the traitorous foster brother of Thor and Balder. Welcome to my lovely home.”


	5. Ware the Dark Twists of the Maze

Despite the terrors of the previous night, Eira slept. Perhaps it was the journey to this hellish place or perhaps it was witnessing the terrors this labyrinth and its prisoner had to offer, but when she settled in a corner as far from Asgard’s traitor as she could, she drifted into a dreamless doze. She truly didn’t expect to survive to the dawn and if she was being honest with herself she truly didn’t expect this place to be real.

Perhaps she had fallen ill and only dreamt of all the past terrors she had dealt with these past few months.

That was too much to hope for though, as she came to realize upon opening her eyes in the dim hours of morning. At some point in the night she had stretched out upon the floor and somehow one of the cushions her companion had sprawled upon had appeared beneath her head. She frowned at that as she pushed herself upright, her gray eyes locked upon its silken fabric. Had he placed it beneath her head?

She glanced fearfully around but the center of the maze was empty of all but herself. She sighed and relaxed slightly; perhaps she had awakened during the night and commandeered one of those blasted cushions for herself…

Before she could muse upon this any further, her stomach gurgled loudly in the silence of the maze; she jumped and laughed hysterically. She had never been more on edge and something as mundane as hunger should not take precedence but she had not eaten for many long hours.

Pulling her pack towards her she blessed her foresight as she pulled out a loaf of bread and a chunk of hard cheese. Breaking off a corner of the bread she nibbled upon it and surveyed her surroundings. From her initial arrival she had noticed the aged feel the granite walls possessed and the oppressive atmosphere the black firmament provided but this part of the labyrinth was almost homely in comparison to the other twists she had journeyed through.

She stood and paced about the room, her fingers trailing over the rough stone to drift through the runes carved upon the granite; these were powerful spells of binding and holding and if that man spoke true, it was no wonder the All Father had taken such care to hold him. Loki Laufeyson had committed many heinous crimes and killed many hundreds of people in his grasp for power. 

Frowning she paused before a set of runes hidden in the shadows and she chewed on her breakfast thoughtfully. What had the All Father meant in this carving? It was not something she could make out…the runes were not shaped like Asgardian figures. 

She was so caught up in her ponderings she did not notice the entrance of her traitorous host. 

“Are you planning on sharing your repast, princess?” 

His cold voice purring from directly behind her made her jump and shriek in surprise. Her hand scrambled for her blade as she turned but her fingers grasped empty air.

Loki smiled and raised his hands calmly, “My apologies, princess, I had to hide that pesky blade of yours since it drives us both towards murderous tendencies.” 

She forgot her terror and poked him sharply in the chest, exclaiming, “You had no right to touch me so, traitor! That is the blade my father bequeathed me on my name day and it should be held by none other than I! Thus, I demand its return immediately!” 

He simply grinned and caught her stabbing finger, twisting it sharply so that she cried out in pain. “Perhaps I shall return it to you, princess, if you refrain from calling me nasty names,” he paused, his green eyes lighting upon the bread and cheese still held in her other hand. “And if you offer me some of the bread you possess?” 

He raised his eyes back to hers, which were scrunched in pain and she said through gritted teeth, “Unhand me, then, uncle and perhaps I shall.” 

He released her quickly, smirking at her soft sob and he said smoothly, “Apologies, princess, I did not mean to harm you so.” 

She bent her finger tenderly, wincing as it popped at the knuckle and she snorted, “You meant it and you know it. Ass,” she grumbled as she shoved past him. 

He followed her, his mouth watering at the thought of food, even if it was meager traveler’s rations. “What kind of bread is it that you carry?” he asked, his voice mild for once.

She glanced at him as she knelt before her pack and she frowned. “Um,” she murmured as she rummaged in her pack, “I have two kinds, a sweet loaf which I crave often and then a peasant’s loaf riddled with grains and made of course flour. It is hardy and travels well, which is why I carry it.” She pulled out both loaves and the cheese, as well as some golden fruits called päron. Loki’s mouth began to water at the sight of such glorious viddles and he had to resist snatching them rudely from her hands.

She split each loaf in half, pried the hard cheese apart with her fingers and set a päron aside for him. She glanced at him once more, her frown deepening as she saw the longing in his eyes and she murmured, her voice concerned, “How long has it been since last you ate, Laufeyson?” 

Unable to resist any longer, he fell to his knees before the repast she had set before him and he stretched slender, shaking fingers out towards the waiting fruit. His green eyes glowed with longing but before he picked up the golden fruit he clenched his fingers tightly and said, his voice anguished, “Tell me this is not a dream, that it is not some horrific torture my brother has concocted for me. Tell me, Eira that you are not here to torment me.”  
Eira stared at him, shocked at the pain in his voice; she caught his slender hand in hers and pried the fingers gently apart. She then set the päron in his hand and said, “Fear not, Loki Laufeyson, I am not some new torment for you to face.” She smiled kindly at him, her earlier animosity towards this man forgotten for the time being as his agony washed over her. “Eat, ere you waste away entirely.” 

Loki trembled at the kindness in her tone and stared at the fruit he grasped. “It has been so long since last I feasted on but an Apple. I find myself longing for the simple foods I took for granted as a child.” His fingers stroked the golden flesh he held and he laughed bitterly, “Once I was a god, a god who did not need to eat but who did only for the enjoyment of such a simple task; now? Now I find myself longing for the food as my body decays. It is not a simple task any longer, but a required task for my survival.” His lips twisted in a sneer as he snarled, “How very mortal of me.” 

She was quiet, her eyes wide at the obvious pain he was feeling and she felt the start of a burning fury grow in the pit of her belly; yes this man had committed many crimes against her people and the peoples of countless worlds but was torture a just punishment for his deeds? Surely even he deserved forgiveness…

Before she could think any further on this though, Loki sank his teeth into the fruit and began to eat; where once her eyes were wide in horror at his pain, they were now wide in horror at the sight of a starving man inhaling her meager supplies. 

When he was done with the food she had set aside from him he sighed brokenly and buried his head in his hands. “What have I become?” he groaned, horrified at the weakness he had displayed before this girl. He was a god, a king! He should not revert to his basest nature before witnesses; she would think him weak!

He trembled with self-loathing and he jerked away as she settled her hand gently on his shoulder. “Loki,” she said gently, “Be calm. We all have periods of weakness-“

His head snapped up and he snarled, “I am not weak!” He shook off her hand and rushed from the center of the labyrinth. 

Eira stood awkwardly, her hand suspended in the still air of the chamber and she laughed in disbelief. “Well, he is temperamental that is for sure. No wonder my uncle and grandfather had no patience for him.” Then she gathered the remains of food to return to her pack; before she did though she paused and stared at the remaining päron’s. Sighing, she scooped the delicate fruits up and the sweet bread she so coveted and she carried them to Loki’s nest of cushions. Glancing at the empty doorway, she set them gently upon the pillows and dusted her hands off. 

Maybe this little gesture would ease his anxieties. 

Then she set out to explore this prison she had so ungraciously been deposited in. She had to find Arlor and an escape lest she lost her mind entirely. She didn’t think it would take much to do so. 

**

Loki was lost to his rage for most of the day; that spiteful wench thought him weak! Him, the once king of Asgard! It was disgusting. His eyes blazed furiously as he prowled the twists and turns of the labyrinth, his fingers trailing over the granite walls he rambled beside.

Finally, several hours after he had stormed away from her, he stopped in an outer ring of the maze and gazed thoughtfully at the stars above him. 

What was he going to do about this bothersome girl? She had been deposited to his prison for a reason and if he had heard her mutterings correctly upon her arrival, Heimdall, that far seeing cretin, thought she was the embodiment of Eir, the lost goddess. What did that mean? And how could he use it to his advantage?

As he mused, the sound of beating wings broke through his thoughts and he turned slowly. His green eyes lighted upon a thrashing shadow in the corner a ways from where he stood and he frowned; what new terror was this? It was not even nightfall! Had his dear brother decided to heighten his torments? 

Cautiously, he crept forward, his hands clenched as he prepared to battle whatever nightmare hid in the shadows. He straightened in surprise though, when he saw what thrashed in the corner. His eyes narrowed as he tried to decide what to do with this latest development; the Loki from yesterday would simply finish this creature off and continue on with his wanderings. But he was no longer the Loki from yesterday. The girl had shared her food with him and touched him in kindness.

He should repay her in kind.

Slowly, he approached the wounded bird flailing in terrified panic and his green eyes softened at the bird’s obvious pain.

“Shush, small one,” he murmured as his hands closed gently around the hawk’s body, being ever mindful of its injured wing and deadly talons. “I shall not harm you, you noble beast. Come, let us return to your mistress.” His soft voice and gentle hands calmed the bird and he did not pause to think about how he, Loki, the traitorous spawn of frost giants, was treating an innocent creature with kindness. 

It simply seemed the right thing to do. 

**

Eira was lost. Again. Somehow she had gotten turned around in the never-ending twists of this maze and she had lost her way in the deep shadows. While Odin’s prison was one of the most terrifying things she had ever experienced, this part of the labyrinth seemed more ominous, more foreboding than the other stretches she had ventured through.

What threat awaited in the writhing blackness before her?

Her gray eyes darkened as she tried to peer through the shadows; had she turned left or right to get to this latest corner? Or had she simply gone straight? She couldn’t remember. Where once she had been clear-headed as she explored her prison, now her thoughts were going hazy and she felt herself suddenly grow weary as a sickeningly sweet smell pressed against her nostrils.

What was this? A miasma intent upon weakening her? 

Her lips twisted in a silent snarl as she tried to remain upright but her armour suddenly weighed heavily upon her limbs; her knees buckled and she groaned as she slid down the wall she leaned against. “Show yourself, demon, that I may know the face of my foe!” she snapped weakly as her eyes sought to close.

The sweet odor thickened and a chilling voice chuckled near her ear, “You are not the enemy I was made to destroy, but you are none-the-less my enemy,” it hissed and she shivered as the darkness took on the shape of a looming figure. 

“Who are you?! I swear, I am not your enemy,” she groaned as she rolled slowly to her knees and began to haul herself upright. 

Phantasmal claws caught her at the nape of her neck and a cold blade settled against her cheek; “Pretty child,” the voice hissed in her ear. The demon’s breath smelled of grave dirt and she gagged as it pressed its chilled body against hers. “You seek to sway me? I am far older than you, far wiser. Do not play these games with me. I have seen your mind, I have seen how you start to pity the one who is imprisoned here. Soon, you will release him due to the love you bear him.” A cold tongue slid along her cheek as the demon murmured to her and Eira felt her body weaken further.

“Unhand me!” she shrieked, thrashing against her captors ghostly limbs. “I know not of what you speak! I am a warrior of my realm; I will not go against my uncle’s commandments and release the traitor you seek to punish! Now let me go!” She dug her armour plated elbow in the beast’s belly, the remaining rational part of her mind wondering if you could wound a ghost, and she cried out in pain as the knife pressed to her cheek slid through her skin.

“Fool,” the creature hissed as she broke free of its ghostly claws. “You will destroy this world with the folly of your heart. I have seen into your mind, Eir, and I know of the past you hide from. You will destroy us all!” 

As the shriek died away, Eira ran, not even caring where her feet took her. As long as she escaped that beast and its repugnant breath and its cold body no longer ground against hers, then she cared not where she collapsed next. 

Tears streamed from her eyes, mingling with the blood sheeting down her cheek and she sobbed as she careened into a granite wall. She slid down the expanse, her nails digging helplessly into the rough stone and as her vision spun sickeningly she saw that she was once more in the golden lit expanse of the maze close to the epicenter. 

Somehow she had found her way back to the relative safety that she should not have wandered from this morn.

Her breath hitched as she collapsed in a tumbled heap upon the floor and she did not care that her limbs sprawled in an ungainly manner; the sweetness of that monster still clung to her, twisting through her hair, and with each turn of her head she felt its powers deadening her limbs.

Finally, her mind ceased fighting the poison and she sagged to the floor in a dead faint. 

She did not hear the booted feet approach from a parallel twist of the labyrinth nor did she see her fellow prisoner appear with her beloved hawk at the entrance she had collapsed in.

All Eira saw, all she heard, was that looming monster as it whispered its cold threats in her ear. 

**

The bird on his arm was quiet for most of their return trip back to the center of the maze and Loki found himself remembering some of his childhood hunting companions, particularly one his brother Thor had given him on his seventh name-day. A beautiful hawk she had been, with a wingspan twice the length of his arm with gorgeous red-gold plumage. She had been the best hunter of his youth and he had cherished her until the day of her death. 

His lips lifted in a small smile as his fingers trailed down this hawk’s tawny plumage. This bird was smaller than his Ahora, more suited to the sex of his mistress, but Loki did not doubt the bird was a noble representative of his species. His golden eyes were alert, despite the obvious pain the creature should feel due to his broken wing, and his curved beak nipped delicately at the man’s fingers if they strayed too closely to his wounds. Loki smiled and wondered idly how he should present the bird to his mistress; should he demand payment for the task he had committed? Or should he be humble and simply return the bird to the care of his owner?

So caught was he in his thoughts he almost missed the bird’s sudden shriek as they turned the corner of the final twist before they reached the safety at the center of the maze. He did not miss the tightening of the bird’s talons, though, and he swore softly as he felt the claws pierce his skin.

“Be still, you frightful creature,” he snarled, his hand raised to strike the bird down. And then his eyes settled on the object which had caused the bird’s distress. 

The girl. 

She was a tumbled heap at the entrance to the dark edges of the maze and he felt his chest tighten as the implications of what her crumpled body at that particular part of the maze meant.

“Curse you, Eira,” he murmured as he set the hawk gently in the entrance of the twist he stood in. “Have you not learned this labyrinth will kill you?” He tread carefully towards her, his dark eyes searching through the darkness that had crept up her sprawled legs. It was nearing eventide which meant the torments would start soon and if her broken body was any indication, the outer twists had begun their writhing’s already. 

Kneeling, he surveyed his reluctant visitor and felt his heart quail in fear at the blood covering her face and clumping in her hair. “What did you find in the shadows, princess?” he whispered as his slender fingers pushed her hair aside.

From the sickly sweet smell clinging to her, he suspected it was one of the undead, one of the Elves he had killed in his youth. The All Father’s torments all had a purpose and that particular phantom he made sure to avoid. Shuddering, he scooped her limp body into his arms and staggered into the center of the maze. 

He set her carefully on the cushions he used as a bed and he tore a section of his shirt to wash the blood from her skin. A deep cut slashed across her cheek oozed blood still and he grimaced as he realized she would need stitches. Glancing around his sanctuary his eyes settled on her pack and he scrambled across the room to survey its contents. Surely a Healer, even one so young as she, had had the foresight to pack a medical kit? His fingers closed around a full canteen of water and he sighed in relief. He could at least bathe her cheek to free it of the dirt and blood which clung to her skin.

Then his hands closed upon a small book and he frowned; pulling it from the leather satchel he gazed at the runes which embossed the worn leather of the cover. A Journey of Misfortune it read.

“What do you with this tome, princess?” he murmured as his fingers stroked the bound parchment. “It was lost long ago, thought to be cast into the Void when Eir betrayed Asgard.” His eyes darkened as he turned his gaze upon the crumpled girl lying on his bed. 

Her groan jerked him back to reality and he jumped; it was no matter what she carried in her pack, his first task was to get her cleaned up and on the road to healing.

Rummaging through the clothes and other sundry supplies the girl had deemed important for her wanderings, his fingers finally closed upon a tiny chest he hoped was her medical equipment.

It was. He breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of gauze bandages and silver needles. Balms also nestled within the little chest and he thanked the girl’s foresight in packing so comprehensive a kit. 

Falling once more to his knees at her side he began his ministrations. It was quiet in the center of the maze as he worked and he found himself wondering at just who lay before him. There were so many things that did not add up about this young girl…Absently he wished he could ask his father for guidance; if anyone would have known of the errant citizens of Asgard than it was Odin.

Finally he had her knitted back together; he had scrubbed most of the blood from her hair and skin, using the tepid water from the canteen she had packed and her pale skin shown in the golden light of the maze. He sighed as he settled upon his heels to survey his handiwork; when a soft flapping of wings drew his attention once more to the bird she had carried here he sighed. Perhaps he should have become a healer, instead of a magician all of those long years ago. 

It may have saved him this fate. 

In the silence of the maze he gently set and bound the tiny hawk’s wing and when the bird hopped nimbly from his fingers to settle once more at its mistress’s head, he could not help but smile proudly at his work. Perhaps this deed would sway her to plight? 

Loki gazed at her for several long moments and then stretched hesitant fingers out to stroke an errant curl of her dark hair from her face.

Before he could pull his hand away, her gray eyes snapped open; Loki paused, mesmerized by the terror swirling in their stormy depths and he said softly, “Eira? Are you well?”

She gasped and sat up hurriedly, backing away from him. “What happened? How did I come to be here? What have you done?” 

Her eyes were wild as she touched the wound at her cheek gingerly; he caught her hand lest she damage his careful stitches and he said, “I would ask the same of you, princess. What did you meet in the dark twists of the maze? I smelled the odor of death upon you when I found your body just now.” His dark eyes gazed thoughtfully at her; emotions played on her face and her breath began to race as she remembered what she had encountered. 

“A demon stalked me, pinned me to the wall and whispered vile words in my ear,” she murmured as she wrapped her arms around herself protectively. 

Loki nodded, his suspicions answered and he sighed, “That was but a ghost, a memory sent to plague me, child. You have no reason to fear it.” 

She raised her eyes to his and shook her dark head, “No, what you say is not true for it named me and harmed me.”

He stood and approached her slowly, “Named you?” he murmured as he stopped before her. “What did it call you?”

She laughed, a brittle sound in the still air of the labyrinth and she dropped her head on her knees. “I know not why this has happened to me! I just wished to escape my familial ties, to journey like my uncle in his youth. Why has the Guardian done this to me?”

Loki snorted and knelt before her; “The Guardian,” he spat, loathing in his voice, “Is a meddlesome fool. Nonetheless you are here and unless he decides to recall you, here you will remain.” His gaze softened as she peeked hopelessly at him through her hair. He reached out a slender finger and poked her gently in the arm and murmured, “I will need to know what the phantom called you child; we will need to be prepared if the labyrinth has decided to name you enemy.” 

She frowned and lifted her head, “Me? An enemy?” her voice cracked with shock and her eyes welled. “I’m not an enemy! I’m a princess of Asgard!”

He shrugged one elegant shoulder and spread his hands, “And I a prince. Yet here we are. What did the dead call you?” His eyes hardened as he said this last and she did not miss the command in his tone.

Swallowing, she brushed her fingers once more upon her stitched wound and whispered, “It called me Eir and it said that I would betray my world for the sake of love.” 

Loki just stared at her, once more wondering who exactly this girl was.

“Well,” he said slowly as he straightened. “That is most…interesting.” 

His green eyes glowed with an intrigued fire and she shivered as he turned to pace their prison. Arlor nipped affectionately at her fingers and she smiled as her fingers drifted over his soft feathers. Her eyes tracked her savior’s movements curiously and she shivered as he muttered to himself. 

“Most interesting…” he whispered his fingers stroking his chin.


	6. Family Matters

As night fell, all was silent in the center of the labyrinth. After Eira had woken and revealed the phantom’s words, Loki paced thoughtfully along the edges of their prison; his eyes would occasionally flick to where she sat pressed against the wall near her pack and he would open his mouth to say something reassuring to her, but he found he had nothing to say to her.

He was still unsure of what this resurgence in Eir’s mysticism meant. From what he remembered during his perusals in the Hall of Records as a child, the woman had been a great beauty with unusual dark hair and sea-gray eyes. Her coloring alone set her apart from the royals of Asgard since the descendants of Odin’s line all bore golden tresses and eyes of blue hue. His brow furrowed as he glanced at Eira who was gazing forlornly at the stars above them. His eyes drifted over her dark hair and settled on her light colored eyes.

He cleared his throat, making her jump. Neither had said a word for the past few hours and as the shadows lengthened and the monsters stirred outside their haven the silence had become absolute. He broke their stillness though.

“So, princess, what is your parentage?” he asked gently as he paced by her spot against the far wall. 

Eira drew her legs in and scowled. “My parentage?” she croaked, her voice rough with tears and disuse. “Did I not tell you upon my arrival?” Her disdainful eyes glared at him and he smirked. 

“You did, princess, but you only told me you were the niece of Thor. I do not know who your mother is.” His green eyes drifted over her features and he once more pondered her night-dark hair. 

She shifted uncomfortably on the stone floor and shrugged. “My father is Balder, the youngest brother of Thor and my mother is Sif.” She frowned as he stopped in front of her. Their booted toes rested against each other and he knelt, slowly.

“Really? Are you sure?” he whispered silkily as he stretched out a hand to catch a strand of hair between his fingers. “Though Sif’s hair is black as pitch, in my youth she bore hair of spun gold. And my brother’s hair shines like molten silver. You are so dark for their offspring.” Not to mention her eyes…

She scrambled away from him and spat, “Yes, my mother’s hair was gold but if I remember correctly it was you who burdened her with the black tresses she possesses. And what does it matter, the color of my parent’s hair? Brown is not uncommon for Asgardians!” Her gray eyes darkened furiously as he laughed softly.

“Oh child, it may be common for some Asgardians, but you are not a common citizen of the Realm. You are a princess of Asgard, a direct descendent of Odin.” He smiled coldly as she gazed fearfully at him. “Tell me,” he said softly as he stood. “Your siblings? What type of children are they?” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he resumed his pacing. 

She frowned and wrapped her cloak tightly around her. “My brothers,” she said slowly. “Well they are impetuous boys, fair representations of my line I suppose.”

He raised an eyebrow at her and murmured, “Golden haired?”

She hesitated and then nodded, her eyes wide and her cheeks pale. “Yes,” she whispered, her heart starting to beat frantically. “My grandmother jests that they are the images of my father and uncle,” she continued, her voice quiet in the maze.

Loki turned to her and noticed the bitter twisting of her lips. “You do not care for them, I take it?” he asked.

She sighed and slapped her hands gently on the floor. “I do not know! They are boys, years younger than I and I love them for they are my family but at the same time they are more trouble than they are worth. I,” she paused and gritted her teeth. “I said cruel things to them the last day; I wish I could take those words away.” She set her chin on her folded knees and sighed. Her eyes fluttered closed and Loki gazed at her wonderingly.

Suddenly, he pitied this girl. He did not know the exact reason why she had run away but seeing her mourn for her bothersome brothers made him feel for her. He understood this pain, understood it and loathed it. 

His hand settled gently on her shoulder and he squeezed reassuringly, “Fear not Eira. You will see them again, do not doubt it.” His quiet voice washed over her and she sniffed.

“There is a part of me that longs to return home,” she said turning to him. “But I know that if I do my punishment will be far more severe than this.” She waved a hand at their surroundings and Loki chuckled.

“Far more severe than this?! Child, you’ve almost died twice in the twists of this maze, and you’ve only resided here for a day! What could my precious brother’s concoct that is far worse than this?” His green eyes sparkled with wry humor and he settled companionably beside her.

She was quiet for a moment, gazing at the stars and then she murmured, “Marriage. Marriage is worse than this.”

Loki stilled, once more reminded of Eir’s mythos; she too, had been a daughter of the crown, and when her father had forced a marriage upon her she had vanished into the Void, some say to escape the loathsome ties her family sought, others said she had followed a lost love, ever hopeful to find him in the stars.

“Who were you to marry?” he said softly, his heart twisting furiously at the thought of his brother’s forcing their blood into an arranged betrothal. 

She sighed and turned her head towards him. “Volstagg,” she said sadly. 

Loki snorted, “The Round?” His lips twitched as she burst into laughter and he said, “Tell me, can he still eat three boars in one sitting?”

She was still laughing as she said breathlessly, “I believe he is up to six now. They must carry him in in a palanquin since his feet no longer bear his weight!”

He stared at her in shock and then he too, began to laugh. The center of the labyrinth rang with their mirth for many long moments and as their chuckling died he murmured, “He was once a mighty warrior, your father thought to honor you.”

She sighed and shrugged her shoulders, “Yes, perhaps,” she said slowly. “But I would wish he would honor my desires and allow me to choose a companion of my own. I have barely left the shores of Asgard; I know not what the Nine Realms may have to offer me. I wish he could have understood that.” Her voice had lost its mirth and Loki felt his own humor fade.

“My brother, Thor, he allowed this union to continue?” he said softly, his head turned up so he could gaze at the stars above them. 

Eira shook her head, “No, he protested it from the beginning. He knew I would loathe this being forced upon me and he respected my desire to choose for myself; if anyone in our world should understand my hesitation, I suppose the All Father would.” 

Loki smirked. “Mmm yes. My brother always did have a propensity for rebelling and he always had a desire to live upon Midgard’s smarmy shores.” He hauled himself upright and moved to his bed in the middle of the maze. 

She gazed after him, frowning and said, “You do not like Midgard?” 

He glanced at her and chuckled coldly. “Do you not know my history, child? Do you not know why it is I languish in this most hospitable of prisons?” His green eyes burned hotly at her and she shivered.

“Of course,” she murmured, turning her eyes back to the stars above them. “I just wish I could have seen the mortal Realm; my mother refuses to speak of it and my father is not the most vocal of men. Only the All Father has spoken to me of the odd mortals and their bizarre magics.” Her voice was wistful as she gazed at the stars above them and Loki smiled.

“You are so naïve princess. The mortals may seem meek and mild but they revel in war and they care not for the destruction of their world; their time upon Earth is so brief, how can they care?” His voice was cold as he remembered his brief sojourn amongst the humans.

He did not see her small smile. “Ah, but you wished to conquer them, to torture and kill. I? I would just like to walk amongst them and partake of their world briefly before moving on. Perhaps if we did not think them small and pitiable we would learn something from them,” her voice was quiet as she mused and he glanced at her. 

“Your uncle said that to me ere I sought to destroy his friends so long ago,” he murmured.

She nodded, “He is wise despite my grandfather’s worries. Did you listen?” She knew he had not. 

He shrugged one shoulder and folded his arms behind his head before saying, “In the end I suppose I did. I do not see how I could not; twenty years of imprisonment forces one to reflect upon one’s actions.” He chuckled and then fell silent. 

She stared at him, her eyes wide; she longed to learn more of this man’s experience in Midgard but she was not sure how to broach it. 

Loki’s lips lifted in a secret smile as he sensed her indecision; his slender hand patted the cushions next to him and he murmured, “Come hither, princess, I will not bite and I weary of shouting at you from across this room.” 

Her fingers ran over the stones she sat upon and she considered his words. “I am comfortable here, my thanks,” she murmured, suddenly uneasy at the thought of sitting so close to him.

“Suit yourself,” he murmured, shrugging once more. “But do not expect me to tell you my tale if you are going to lurk in that dank corner.” He peeked at her from under his lashes and grinned once more as she nibbled her lip worriedly.

He turned his eyes back to the wheeling stars above them and waited for the girl to make her decision; he found himself hoping she would ignore her familial duties and come to him. He did not ponder his sudden need for her contact. 

Her spicy scent rolled over him as he felt the cushions rustle as she settled a discreet distance from him. She was stiff, her hands wrapped around her knees and her elegant neck held high. He chuckled at her discomfort and stroked the cushion next to his hip, “Ah, child,” he murmured, “I will not harm you, have a little trust.” 

She snorted, delicately and shifted away from his spread fingers. “You are still a murderer, still a traitor Laufeyson. I will reside here and listen to your tale and upon its conclusion return to my side of the chamber.” Her voice was haughty, but he knew she was eager for his story. 

He glanced at her and sighed, “Very well, noble maid. I will not force you to do anything you do not wish.” He turned his eyes back to the stars and murmured, “So where should I begin?” He waited for her response as he felt her excitement deepen and he shivered. She made the stale air of this prison tremble with her spirit and he found it was like a tonic for his withered soul. 

“Can you tell me of the cities you traveled through? I always longed to see their towering monuments and their peculiar horseless carriages my uncle road in. What was the desert like? What did their flowers smell like? Do they really only have one moon?”

Her words tumbled over each other excitedly and the questions, so long unasked, spilled from her lips. Loki raised a hand and turned his head to her, stalling her words. He smiled to take any harshness from his words as he exclaimed, “Hold child! You ask too many questions! Let me gather my thoughts as you ask the first one and please speak slowly. You were blabbing so fast I could hardly understand you.” He chuckled as she flushed and he patted her booted foot gently. His heart leapt as she did not pull away from him and he wondered if that was a small victory for him. 

“Well, my visit to Midgard was admittedly not a pleasure jaunt but I suppose I can answer your query,” he murmured thoughtfully. He once more folded his hands behind his head and turned his gaze upon the stars. Then, as she stared at him hungrily, he told her of his visit upon Earth; he did not mention his political ploys, the army he had built or the warriors he had fought against. He simply told her of what he had seen of the mortals and their tiny planet. 

As he wove his tale she slowly relaxed until she was lying on her side next to him; her cheek was pillowed upon her arm and as he spoke her eyes began to drift closed. When finally she slept, he smiled tenderly upon her and pulled her cloak over her shoulders. She murmured as his hand brushed her injured cheek and he chuckled. So young, this girl, so young and so pure. 

His eyes darkened and he scowled; he had to get her away from this prison lest he corrupt her. 

That would be an unforgivable sin. His brothers would truly kill him then if this girl returned to their care just as black-hearted as he. He wondered when Balder would appear with his Apple; his youngest brother was late but he supposed that had more to do with his daughter’s disappearance than with cruel punishment of Asgard’s most notable traitor. 

As the sky lightened and the monsters of the labyrinth subsided, Loki made a pact with himself to get the girl beside him out of this monstrous prison as soon as possible. 

He could not bear yet another soul upon his blood stained hands. 

**

In the early hours of the morning someone came to the labyrinth; Loki tensed as the air tightened around him, his green eyes sharpening as he glanced at the still sleeping girl at his side. Whoever had arrived to the labyrinth had not woken her. He stood slowly, making sure to not stir her. She murmured and clutched the cushions he had just vacated to her and he smiled absently. 

Then he felt his brother’s summons. Grimacing he allowed Balder’s magic to pull him to the verges of the maze. 

“Brother, it has been longer than either of us care to recall; must you pull me so violently to this dark corner of my prison? I would come if you asked,” Loki drawled, as he slid to a stop before his silver-haired brother. He brushed imaginary dust from his sleeve and shot his younger brother a dark grin. “You look decidedly disheveled Balder. Is Heimdall losing his touch?” 

Balder was seething, which Loki found exceedingly fascinating. Odin’s youngest had always been the calmest of his sons, the most level-headed. Loki could not recall a time that Balder had reacted out of spite; he was everything Odin had desired in a son. And yet Thor was king and Balder was but his messenger.

Loki’s lips twisted at the familiar irony. Which made Balder ever the more furious. 

“Do not test me, Loki,” he snarled as he advanced upon his elder brother. “This has been a trying time for my family and my patience wears thin.”

“Ah,” Loki said as he slid away from his glowering brother. “What has happened in the golden halls of our brother? Tell me, have you fallen out of grace? Have you come to join me in my charming residence?” His green eyes sparkled with wry humor as he tormented Balder. 

Who of course, being the humorless one of his family, did not approve. “Do not jest brother,” he snapped, grabbing Loki by the shirt front and hauling him close. “I would rather die than betray my family; I am not you,” he hissed. His blue eyes, so dissimilar from his daughters, were icy cold in the faint light of the labyrinth. 

Loki raised his hands slowly and said mildly, “Of course not. How silly of me.” His green eyes narrowed as Balder released him. He smoothed his shirt and said, “So, what has happened on Asgard to have you so maddened?”

Balder stared at him for a moment and then his shoulders slumped. “It is no matter of concern for you Loki. I am but here to give you your Apple and to assure that you have not slipped your bonds,” he pulled the golden fruit from his pocket and held it out to his brother.

Loki just stared at it, for once unsure if he should eat it. “What has happened, Balder?” he asked once more, raising his eyes to his brother’s. “You are not one for rages. You were ever the calmer of us,” his voice was soft and he waited to see if the man would tell him what had happened. He doubted it, but it never hurt to try his luck.

Balder’s fingers clenched tightly on the fruit and he gritted his teeth. “My daughter has run away,” he said quietly, raising troubled eyes to Loki’s. 

He waited patiently to see if Balder would say anything further; he did. “She disobeyed our direct orders and abandoned her familial duties! She has ever been tempestuous but this, this has gone further than ever before.” 

“What caused her to run?” Loki said quietly, his back tensing at Balder’s words. The girl had spoken true when she said she was being forced into this marriage. His eyes burned hotly and his hands fisted at the thought. 

Balder sighed and threw his hands in the air, “She was to marry one of our oldest friends! The girl is of marriageable age and when Volstagg asked for her hand we thought it would honor her! But instead she locked herself in her room for weeks and spat epithets at us through the door. The only one who could reason with her was Thor and even then she refused to acquiesce!” He paced quickly before Loki, who smiled to himself and thought, good girl, as Balder ranted. “And then two mornings ago Sif sought to converse with Eira and the girl was gone! Gone, vanished and we know not where.” He stopped and sighed furiously. 

Loki folded his arms and said, “Perhaps that is well then. Forcing your daughter to marry someone not of her choosing is poorly done Balder. You should know that.” 

Balder turned to him and scowled, “What do you know of parenting, Loki? You are a vile monster and you have no right to tell me what wrongs I do my children. So silence that snake tongue of yours and be gone from my sight.” His voice snapped around Loki cruelly and he flinched; no wonder Eira had run. Did her father use similar words to drag her to the altar, to harangue her through her bedroom door? 

His earlier pact forgotten, he narrowed his eyes and said coldly, “Very well Balder. Leave the Apple and I will continue in my prison while you search for your errant daughter. But think, if you find her, gentle words and sweet understanding may sway her while cruelty may force her to greater measures.” He held out his hand and bowed his head when the Apple was thrust into his slender fingers. “Just think on it, brother. If there is one thing our family has never succeeded at, it is father-children relations,” he murmured as he turned away. 

His lips twisted in a sour smile as Balder shouted, “Odin was not your father, Loki! Do not think to compare my daughter’s actions with your own!” 

He glanced over his shoulder at his silver-haired sibling and he shrugged one shoulder, “Ponder my words, Balder. Good hunting.” And with that he faded into the shadows of the labyrinth.  
He breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the air tighten with Balder’s departure; he gazed at the Apple he held when he was once more alone in the maze and wondered what he was going to do with the girl still sleeping in the center of their prison.

He frowned as he thought of the pact he had made with himself the past night and he murmured, “I cannot force her to return to Asgard. I am not Balder or Sif. There must be another way…”

But there wasn’t. He had resided in this hell for twenty years and never had he found an escape; did he doom the girl to a like punishment then? 

His hand tightened around the Apple before he shoved it into the pocket of his pants. Glancing around, he backtracked to the center of the maze. He had to think on Balder’s words, on the girl currently sleeping in his prison and he had to think. 

Loki’s teeth gritted and the muscles in his jaw jumped as he slid through the entrance of the center. He hesitated when his eyes caught the sleeping form of Eira. She was curled tightly upon herself, her hands clenched into the cushions he had slept on. His lips twitched and his eyes smoldered green fire in the soft lighting of the maze. 

What to do about this unusual child…

Running his fingers through his hair his eyes settled on a small pile of stones sitting in the darkened shadows of the maze and his smile grew. Gathering a handful of stones he left the center. 

The only sound in the maze was the small clatter of stones every few steps he took. 

Hopefully his little visitor would wake soon and see his sign. 

In the meantime, he would be able to get his thinking done. 

**

She was standing in a field of unusual golden flowers while overhead those odd sea birds she loved wheeled and sang in screeching voices. She inhaled and laughed in happiness at the salty taste of the air filling her lungs. 

How she loved this field of wildflowers so close to the sea; it was healing in itself and as she dragged her fingers through the tips of the flowers brushing her hips, she laughed. How could her father think this realm had no beauty? Had no structure? It was just as regal, just as beautiful as Asgard. 

Glancing up at the city shining on the horizon she smiled tenderly. This was her home, how could she leave it?

The smile slid from her lips at the thought of her little cousin struggling against Balder; the kings and princes of Asgard did not learn from past mistakes. Did this mean every daughter of Odin’s line would be doomed to the fate she had chosen those many years ago? She hoped not. 

She was so focused on her worries that she did not hear her husband’s approach. 

His soft laugh coming from behind her made her jump and she turned hurriedly, her dark brown hair streaming behind her. She smiled as he neared and a small part of her wondered how she could ever leave him…

“Are you lost, princess?” he murmured, his fingers trailing up her side to cup her chin. 

This was a man she loved, a man who kept her safe, her dark prince.

“How could I ever be lost, when I have you to find me?” she whispered as his fingers caressed her skin and a deep shiver flitted up her spine. Suddenly she longed for his lips to press against hers and she almost forgot of her self-imposed mission.

When his lips finally pressed gently against hers, she groaned and her hands slid up his chest. “Eir,” he whispered against her lips, “When shall you return to me? I grow lonely and I miss the feel of you in my arms.”

She laughed as his hands slid down her back and whispered as he pressed his forehead to hers, “Husband, I am in your arms this very moment; how can you miss me?” 

He drew away from her and she sighed internally at the old fear darkening his eyes. “I fear you will not return to me this time. That your return to Asgard will result in your doom, wife. Do not do this; Odin is gone and his golden son sits the throne. We are safe,” he said, his voice agonized. 

She shivered at his concern but she laughed and stroked his cheek, “Husband, times of healing are always needed. There are those still in Asgard in need of my gentle guiding. Fear not, I will return to you.” 

“I pray you do,” he murmured, his hand rising to stroke her cheek. “Ware the Kings of Asgard; they were ever capricious. I suspect very little has changed, even with Thor’s reign.” 

She caught his hand, bringing his palm to her lips so she could kiss him one last time. “We need not concern ourselves with this, husband, at this moment. Let us only revel in the sunlight warming our bodies and the feel of the other in our arms,” she whispered as her fingers slid to the edges of his shirt. 

He chuckled softly as her nails ran gently over his skin and he dragged her closer; “You were ever the wiliest of your sisters, Eir. I wonder if that trait continues in your cousin’s line?” he murmured as his shirt landed at their feet. She shook her head and pressed a soft kiss to his chest. 

“My cousin Eira is her own person, but I suspect her path will be far darker than my own; she has fallen in shadow and I can no longer see the face of the man she is destined to love,” she whispered against his skin. 

He groaned softly as her fingers pressed against the bulge of his pants and he struggled to unbutton the shirt she wore. “Must we discuss this now, Eir?” he whispered as her shirt slid over her shoulders.

She raised her eyes to his and he shuddered at the dark desire swirling in her steel grey eyes. “Aye,” she whispered, her voice husky; she squeezed her fingers gently and her lips lifted in a small smile at the sight of his head thrown back and the fine muscles of his throat working as he moaned. “Healing comes in all forms, husband,” she whispered as her fingers unbuttoned his pants. 

He gazed at her, desire clouding his senses as she dropped to her knees before him and he felt his knees tremble as her hands slid firmly up his legs to stroke his inner thighs. 

“You are the only one I shall kneel to, my dark prince,” she whispered as her lips kissed his tip and he smiled fiercely. 

His hands buried in her hair as she took him in his mouth and he said softly, “Thor will realize the similarities between Eir and Eira’s lives, wife.” She made a noise of agreement as her throat worked along his length and he shuddered as he struggled to maintain his control. “Would Odin have realized sooner, do you think, if he had lived to see Eira blossom into the rebellious young princess she is now?”

She only gazed at him, her grey eyes hooded and he groaned as she brought him to the edge. 

“Enough,” he whispered and she released him. “I would hold you one last time,” he ground out as he fell to his knees in the midst of his wife’s wildflowers. Her soft laugh as she reclined before him was like a hot wave of fire on his skin and he groaned as his lips trailed over her sweet, soft skin. 

“Love me,” she whispered. “Heal me…”

He made quick work of the pants she had worn for this afternoon stroll and he pressed his lips to the inside of her thigh as he spread her legs. “My dark prince,” she whispered, her fingers burying in his hair as he spread her even wider so his lips could have access to her tender pearl. Her hips surged to meet him and he smiled at the sweet taste of her; she tasted like the oceans of this fair realm. 

“Heal me,” she groaned as she gazed at the cerulean sky above them; his touch was like fire blazing his possession upon her skin and she strove to remember this for the rest of her existence. Tears streamed from her eyes as her toes buried themselves in the warm soil of Midgard and she prayed to all of her sisters that this would not be the last she saw of her adopted home. His hands stroked her as she prayed and she sobbed one last time,  
“Heal me…”

He raised his head to gaze lovingly at her as the core of her being rippled around his fingers and he pressed a soft kiss to her belly, whispering, “Always, my fair princess. Always.” 

**

Eira snapped awake as the man in her dream slid himself deep within her burning core and she groaned as her body stretched languorously. 

“Heal me…”

She froze, the warm desire trailing from her limbs as she realized she was no longer in the sunlit field of golden flowers. She was once more in the center of Loki’s prison and her bruised and battered body reclined upon the faded cushions he had shared with her the night before. 

She groaned as frustrated desire gripped her limbs and she brought her hand to her eyes to try and wipe away the images burned upon them. Who was that man? Who had that woman been? And where had they been reclining? She did not think it was Asgard…

She froze as her fingers tightened around a foreign object pressing against her palm and she frowned at the sight of the tiny stone she held. “What is this?” she asked as she sat up. She rolled the stone gently between thumb and forefinger and marveled at its smoothness. Then her eyes caught sight of another stone three paces from where she lay. Her frown deepened as she saw more pebbles leading away from her into the shadows of the maze. 

Glancing around she saw that she was alone in the center; her “host” was no longer beside her. She paled as the implications of his absence and this trail of pebbles meant. 

“He means to lead me deeper into the maze!” she whispered, her hand tightening unconsciously upon the stone. “Does he mean to kill me then?” she whispered, twisting terror settling in her stomach.

She no longer remembered her unusual dream; instead her entire being focused on keeping the panic at bay. What should she do? Her eyes darted around her prison and then settled once more upon the clever trail he had laid for her. 

“How can I be lost, when I have you to find me?” she whispered, her stone rolling furiously between her fingers. 

Finally she made her decision; standing she shook out her dark hair and laughed. “Valhalla save me. I shall see where he leads me; perhaps it is a way out of this hellish maze,” she said wryly. 

She slipped the stone he had left her in her pocket as she rushed out of the center. 

She did not pause to wonder why she wished to keep it.


	7. Eir's Legacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to Ambpersand for helping me write this chapter. She's my voice of reason and she doesn't judge my poor attempts at writing sex scenes.
> 
> [warning: dubious consent in this chapter, proceed with caution]

Patience had always been one of Loki’s many skills. He had honed it while being raised side-by-side with Thor and his impetuous friends; he had always thought of himself as the practical son of Odin. And after this morning’s audience with Balder? He found he still believed that. 

But his patience was wearing thin today. “Where is she?” he muttered as he paced back and forth within one of his favorite chambers of the maze. “Is she going to sleep the day away?” he snorted and pulled the Apple out of his pocket. “She will not come,” he whispered, his fingers gently caressing the faintly glowing fruit he held. “She will not come; I’m a fool.” He sighed and pocketed it once more; now was not the time to consume its sweet flesh.

“Aye, I’d say you are a fool for standing in this dark cave,” her voice rang in the still air.

Loki’s lips twitched in a surprised grin as he turned to see her standing uncertainly in the entrance of the chamber; his eyes drifted over her and he shivered at the inquisitive fire in her eyes. She smiled as well-a small sideways grin that lit her face in a mischievous light and she held her hand out so he could see the tiny stones he had left for her.

“I believe there is a Midgardian children’s tale about two little children who leave themselves a trail so they can find their father lest they get lost in the woods,” he murmured as he approached her. His fingers stretched out and he plucked one of the stones out of her palm. “I did not wish to lose you this morn, princess.” He smiled gently, his green eyes smoldering.

An uneasy shiver flitted up her spine at his words and he paused. “Princess?” he said, his voice sharp with concern. “What has happened? You are so white.” His hand rose to stroke the cheek he had stitched the night before and she flinched away from his touch.

“Loki,” she murmured and he shivered at the softness of her voice. “Tell me of Eir.” Her gray eyes rose to his and he frowned at the unease he saw there.

“Why? Why do you ask of the wayward sister of Odin?” he asked, his voice suddenly harsh. 

She wrapped her arms around herself and turned her gaze to the chamber they stood within. “I dreamt of her,” she said softly as she went deeper into the shadows. He frowned and watched her, his fingers idly running over the stone he had taken from her. She glanced at him, her gray eyes dark with memories and her voice was thoughtful as she continued. “She was somewhere I had never seen before; there were flowers surrounding her of such an amazing golden hue and the sky was bluer than my brothers’ eyes.” 

She’d gone deeper in the chamber as she spoke and her voice echoed around them almost as if she stood once more in the ceremonial halls of Asgard. 

“I’ve never smelled such beautiful air; it was so clean and so salty, it made me feel so alive,” she murmured. She stopped and hugged her arms around herself. “What world was that?” she whispered as he came up behind her.

He hesitated and ran his fingers gently over a strand of her hair. “Midgard. You dreamt of Midgard,” he whispered.

She smiled when she turned to him and he felt his heart lurch in his chest at the happiness in her eyes. “You say you dreamt of the goddess. Did you see her?” He was curious about this sudden resurgence in Eir’s legacy. What had caused it?

His eyes narrowed when Eira’s cheeks flushed. “I…saw…her,” she said softly, once more resuming her exploration of the chamber. 

“What did she look like? What was she doing?” he asked, as he rushed after her. His brow furrowed at her choked back laugh and he said, “Why do you laugh?”

Suddenly she turned on him and he froze at the fear in her eyes, “Why do I dream of her? Why? First the Gatekeeper, then that spirit who attacked me and now this?! Why does this keep happening to me?” 

Loki gazed at her for a moment and then sighed. “It’s her legacy, princess,” he said softly. Her eyes widened as he once more repeated something woman in her dream had mentioned and he shrugged. “Come with me, so we can sit comfortably while I tell you this tale.” He caught her hand and pulled her towards the middle of the chamber. 

Her eyes widened in amazement as they stopped beside a twisted stone bench. “This is a beautiful spot; how did you find it?” she asked with a shy glance over her shoulder towards him. 

He hesitated, still wondering why she had dreamt of Eir but smiled gently at her question. “I do not know if my father meant to design this particular chamber thus, but the warm spring is undoubtedly a blessing,” he murmured as she knelt to run her fingers through the warm waters of the pool’s edge at which they stood.

“It’s magnificent!” she said in wonder as she gazed around, her eyes settling on the mighty oak that twisted from the waters to tower over them. 

His hand rose unbidden to once more stroke her skin and he smiled tenderly, “I thought you would wish to bathe after the adventures you had this past night.” A strand of her hair, still twisted with blood and dirt slithered over his palm and he grimaced. 

She turned wide eyes to him and whispered, “Is it safe?” 

He smiled and nodded, “Yes, it is. It will be hot, I must warn you; your skin will not be used to its temperature.” 

She hesitated and fingered the bloodstained sleeve of her tunic, then without a second thought, she bent to unlace her boots. Loki’s eyes widened at the sight of her pale skin glowing in the dim light and he resisted running his fingers over the ridges of her spine bumping through the thin undertunic she wore. 

Suddenly, before he could act on his desires, she dove. 

He opened his mouth to dissuade her and then sighed. She would learn.

He sat on the bench as she rose out of the water and shrieked. “Valhalla! It is hotter than the Guardian’s breath!” she gasped as she ran her fingers through her wet tresses. 

He chuckled at the mention of the fire and metal warden of the armory he had once walked through with his brothers. “I warned you princess,” he murmured and she laughed breathlessly.

“I could not resist,” she said as she drifted closer to the edge of the deep pool. A small frown marred her smooth forehead as she rested her arms on the rim of the pool. “You are sure this place is safe? It is most unusual that this prison of terrors would have a haven such as this,” she said thoughtfully.

He smiled slyly and said, “Well, it is safe for now. But the moment darkness falls the terrors will begin.” 

Her eyes widened as they flicked around the shadows and she choked out, “What terrors come from this section of the maze?”

He couldn’t help the shudder from flitting up his spine at the thought of the scaly creatures who would slither out of the rocks at nightfall and he flicked his fingers in the water, “Just know, princess, that you should not swim in these waters as darkness falls.” 

She swallowed heavily and nodded. “Aye, that is probably most wise. How much time…” she trailed off and he chuckled softly, easing her worries.

“You have plenty of time princess; the shadows will not lengthen for several hours yet. Enjoy this time you have,” he said mildly. She sighed and rested her head on her arms. 

“Tell me of Eir’s legacy,” she murmured, her gray eyes gazing at him avidly. 

Loki shifted on the bench, folding his long legs beneath him and he rested his chin on his hand. “What do you know of her?” he asked and she shrugged one pale shoulder.

“Very little I’m afraid; she is remembered by those of my calling since she was a healer of great renown but I’m afraid her name is no longer spoken in the halls of our fathers,” she murmured.

“Your fathers,” he muttered absentmindedly. “I am not of Odin’s line truly.” She only shrugged once more and kicked off of the wall to execute a quick backflip under the water. He smiled at the sight of her long legs kicking under the water and when she surfaced he scolded mildly, “Will you listen? Or will you simply gallivant through the waters like a child?” 

She paused, her eyes wide at his rebuff and then she laughed, “Fine, oh storyteller. I shall listen patiently to your tale,” she said, her voice light in the shadows and he felt the beginnings of slow desire burn in his belly. 

Shaking his head and telling himself to keep his mind to the task at hand, he launched into his tale. His voice echoed majestically around the chamber and she laughed at the mock solemnity in his face; he sat upright, his hands folded before him and his head high. He only winked at her and began: 

“Once, during the early reign of Odin’s father’s, his youngest daughter of his third lover, she of night dark hair and eyes of molten silver, fell in love with the dark prince of a faraway realm. It was a pairing not of Bor’s, Odin’s father, design and thus was deemed unfavorable. 

But Eir, his beloved daughter who longed only to heal those sad of heart or weak of body, rebelled against her father and brothers. She strove desperately to have her union with the dark prince of Alfheim’s sanctified but to no avail. So she ran away with her lover one starlit night while the Guardian of the Bifrost turned a blind eye to her actions, but Odin learned of her rebellion and he and his brothers hunted their only sister down. They found her on a faraway place of sunlit shores and sweet smelling air and they yanked her from her lover’s arms and bore her back to her home world. 

She did not resist lest her brothers slay her lover, only cried silently within the circle of her eldest brother’s arms as they rode the Bifrost back to Asgard. When they returned to the fair city she fell to her knees before her father and begged him to let her return to the prince she loved and the sweet realm they would call home. He refused. 

Instead, Bor locked her away, keeping her in the highest reaches of his palace, in hopes that solitude, a chance to think on her actions, may sway the maid to his decree. Eir wallowed and her wails and platitudes could be heard throughout her father’s palace. Her brothers denied her, her mothers’ railed at her and her father refused to even look at her; that is, until the day she agreed to forget her lover. 

Every day, for many months, he sent some new suitor in hopes that her eye would be caught by a new face; she turned her eyes away from each hopeful man and would only gaze out her window upon the Bifrost spread below her. She did not voice her hopes that her prince would come to save her for if he did he would surely be slain by her brothers. 

The months drew ever on and Eir began to lose faith. Her father had not seen her since the day he had thrown her in her prison, and her brothers cursed her through the bars of her door; she knew her actions had spawned war for she had turned down the son of a king her world loathed, but her heart was broken and she was young. 

After all, what is war to a maid when her lover is gone from her arms? 

Then one day, like a miracle, her father came to her. 

But he did not come to tell her of her imminent release or even that he was sorry for the cruel words and actions he had raised against her. He came to force her in wedding garb; she fought against the rough hands of the handmaidens he had brought and her nails clawed uselessly at the soft gown she was forced to wear. Ever her father watched her, his eyes full of anger and pitiless they were in his fury. Then, when she was clothed and sobbing, he dragged her from the prison, her screams beating at his ears, and he threw her at the feet of the king he had gone to war with. 

She raised her eyes and quailed at the red eyes glowing hotly within a blue woad face and she felt her strength at long last leave her. ‘Father!’ she begged, her hands clasping tightly upon his golden robes. ‘Father who once loved me, please do not make me do this!’

But Bor would not hear her. His realm was at risk, soon to be laid to siege by the frost giants of Jotunheim and their stipulation for peace was for the crown prince of their realm to marry the only daughter of Bor’s line. 

Eir. 

Bor, her once gentle father, hauled her upright, snarling harsh words in her ears and he handed her to the king of the frost giants. ‘Here is my daughter, the troublesome wench I sired. Take her and may you leave my realm at peace,’ he said to his enemy. 

The giant beckoned to his eldest son, a warrior of great prowess, who had killed three of Bor’s sons in the battles that had occurred during Eir’s long imprisonment. ‘She is most fair, a fitting mother for heirs,’ he said with a sneer and Eir felt her heart break in terror at the cruelty in his eyes. 

Turning to her father, she straightened and all of the men shivered at the incandescent fury glowing in her eyes and she said, her voice seeming to echo within the Bridge on which they stood, ‘Know this Bor, you wish me tied to this man not of my choosing; thus, the daughters of your line will forever be cursed. You have forced me against my will to marry a man I do not love and this is odious in the eyes of our ancestors. I loathe you and I curse you.’

The Bifrost which they stood upon trembled with her fury and Eir, who stood near the edge of the bridge, glanced into the Void at her feet and whispered, ‘You have lost me and wither do I go to find the man I love?’ And then with a sly look over her shoulder to where her three remaining brothers, Odin at the forefront, stood and she said with a laugh, ‘Wish me luck, my brothers.’ 

And with those words she tore herself free from the frost giant princeling’s grip and cast herself into the Void. 

So Eir was lost to them and Bor cursed her name and Odin turned his eyes away from her and none knew of where she went. 

Some say she found her dark prince from the faraway realm. Some say she died, ever searching through the stars for the realm of golden sky and sweet air, where she had gone with her lover. 

One thing is certain; Bor’s line was cursed with headstrong daughters. What maids were born to his remaining sons seemed doomed to love men not of their family’s choosing. These daughters were beautiful of spirit and strong of mind but ever they rebelled against their fathers.

First there was Amora who fell in love with a sorcerer of dark magic and then there was Freya, Odin’s brother Od’s eldest daughter who fell in love with a warrior of mighty prowess and thus split herself from her father’s line to fight at her lover’s side forever more. 

Ever these daughters tried their fathers and ever they denied their decrees of marriage to those not of their choosing.

Is this Eir’s legacy? Or just a reflection on the independent nature of the children of Bor’s line? 

Never shall we know, for even now Eir is lost to us and none know of whither she went.” 

Loki’s voice was rough when he finished his tale; he relaxed out of his stiff posture and Eira watched in fascination as his long fingers rubbed at his temples. 

“What do you believe, Loki Laufeyson?” she murmured. 

He glanced at her and smiled; she’d hauled herself out of the pool halfway through his tale and she was now shivering slightly in the cooler air outside of the waters. “Here,” he said gently as he pulled his thick tunic off over his head. 

She hesitated as he handed it to her and then pulled it on over her damp skin. “My thanks,” she said with a sheepish grin. “I did not wish to return to my soiled clothing.” 

He shrugged his pale shoulder and pretended not to notice the fire in her eyes as she gazed upon the flat plane of his chest. “It is no trouble,” he murmured, his mind full of the images of her rosy nipples peeking through the damp fabric of her undertunic. 

He rubbed his chin gently as he thought on her question and when she shifted impatiently the corner of his mouth twitched in a small smile. “Patience, child, would be of use for you,” he murmured.

She snorted delicately and gestured in his direction, “So? What do you believe about Eir?” 

He gazed at her, his mind preoccupied by the way her hair curled in the damp air beside the pool and he idly wondered what it would look like spread upon the cushions upon which they had slept the night before. 

He wondered how she herself would appear spread upon those cushions…

He jumped when her fingers tapped him sharply upon his knee and he laughed gently. “Apologies, princess, my mind was far-afield,” he said as he stood. 

He held his hand out for her to take and she only hesitated a bare heartbeat before placing her palm against his so he could pull her upright. She gathered her dirty clothing as he headed for the entrance back to the maze and he chuckled at the sound her bare feet slapping against the paving stones as she hurried to catch him up. 

“I do not know necessarily if I believe the tale,” he murmured, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “But I do wonder at the origins of such a sorrowful story.” 

She frowned at him over her armful of clothing and he shrugged. “Asgardian’s are long of life; Bor’s reign was eons ago and as the years dragged on the story of his daughter could have become distorted. As it is, I only discovered her existence upon my learning of the craft. There is a tome, a leather bound volume, within the Halls of Records which tells of her story,” he paused at her soft gasp and he glanced at her once more. Her cheeks flamed in the dim light and she affected an innocent look; she did not fool him. After all, he had found Eir’s story in her pack. 

He continued as if he had not noticed Eira’s discomfiture, saying, “When I asked my father of Eir, he refused to answer all questions. I fear I did not get much further in my discovery since Odin’s brothers were long since gone at that point and none lived who would remember Eir’s struggle. But I suspect…” he trailed away at this point and Eira frowned. 

“What do you suspect?” she asked excitedly.

He sighed and shrugged, “I suspect Eir did throw herself into the Void in hopes of escaping Bor’s decree. She may even have survived the fall to find her lover.” 

Eira stared after him as he walked into the center of the maze and she frowned. “But no one could survive that! It is the Void! The only way to cross the realms is via the Bifrost!” He sneered at that and she froze. “Isn’t it?” she asked weakly as she followed him into their haven.

“I survived the Void,” he said as he sat upon the cushions spread around the center of the chamber. “And you should know that the Bifrost is not the only way in and out of Asgard; your uncle traveled between his kingdom and Midgard quite often before the Second bridge.” 

He reclined, watching her through hooded eyes as she rocked on the balls of her bare feet. He reveled in her silence, for it gave him a chance to study her more fully in the soft golden glow of the maze. Her skin was pale, but he knew there was a smattering of light freckles dotting her shoulders and chest, and he couldn’t help the appreciative desire from growing in him at the sight of the fine muscles in her long legs flexing as she rocked. 

He wished she would discard her old clothes and his shirt so he could see her breasts once more; their rosy blossoms had made him hunger to taste of their sweet flesh and for the first time in the twenty years of his long imprisonment, he found himself longing for the sweet coupling of bodies he had so long been without. 

He jumped when she dropped her clothes at her feet and folded her arms over her chest. “I think she survived. I know she did,” she said softly, her gray eyes vague as she stared into the distance. 

Loki sat upright, and asked, wry laughter coloring his tone, “How are you certain? Is it because of the dream you experienced last night?” 

She nodded and began to pace. He watched her, desire lapping at his blood as her long legs flexed before him. The tip of his tongue darted out to moisten the corner of his mouth at the sight of his tunic riding up to reveal the sweet curves of her thighs and the smooth swell of her buttocks. He found himself imagining his hand stroking up those shapely legs to squeeze the soft moons peeking at him and he laughed hopelessly as she continued her oblivious pacing. 

“She was with a man,” Eira blurted making him jump guiltily. She turned to face him, a small frown crinkling her brow once more. “She was with a man she called ‘husband’ and her ‘dark prince’ and they were…” she paused and her cheeks flamed. She dropped her eyes to her toes and he watched in fascination as they wriggled upon the ancient paving stones she stood upon. 

His eyes widened as the implications of her dream and her words became clear and he chuckled softly. “Ah, you dreamt of Eir and her lover? I suppose it was not just a dream of them strolling along the lovely beaches of Midgard?” 

Her blush deepened even further, which was answer enough, and she once more began pacing before him; he could not help thinking she reminded him of the wolves he had seen near Alfheim’s snow-tipped mountains. She was all fierce energy this eve, her night dark hair rippled down her back in soft curls and waves and her pale skin glowed with supple youthfulness. He could not ignore the desire growing in him any longer. 

“Tell me, princess, daughter of Balder,” he murmured, rising slowly from his cushions. She only glanced at him and continued her frantic pacing; he caught her wrist as she passed before him and he stopped her. She gazed at him in surprise, her gray eyes shining in the warm glow of the labyrinth. “Tell me,” he said, his voice husky with desire as he stroked her wounded cheek gently. “Are you a maid still?”

Her eyes went impossibly wide and she would have pulled away from his touch, but his hand moved from her cheek to the back of her skull; he buried his fingers in her hair and cradled her head in his hand. “Are you?” he whispered silkily as his other hand slid up her side; she jumped when his stroking fingers brushed her breast and he resisted cupping the soft swell in his hand. 

She swallowed, her eyes caught by the deep fire of his eyes and she whispered hoarsely, “Aye, I am a maid yet.”

“Ah,” he whispered as his fingers stroked her full lips; she shivered at the feel of his nails dragging gently over her skin and she almost missed him leaning in to kiss the corner of her mouth. “Then you know not what it is like to be loved by a man.” 

She only shook her head, her eyes closing as his hand slid down her back, his fingers bumping gently over the knobs in her spine and she gasped softly as he gripped her buttocks. He smiled slowly; he knew he was scaring her and he reveled in it. 

He had missed bending those weaker than him to his will. 

Her eyes were dark with unresolved desire when she finally looked to him and he smiled as her lips parted. She would be his ere the night was through. 

The moment Loki saw Eira’s lips part before him, he pounced. Pressing his lips firmly into her own soft ones, he felt her body turn to stone in his arms. Without a moment’s hesitation, he began caressing her body through the tunic, trying desperately not to lose her. He was so close…

His lips moved upon hers, coaxing her with soft kisses and light brushes of his tongue across her lower lip. Loki pulled her body tight against his, letting her feel the way she affected him, the proof pressing hard against her lower stomach. Eira’s body slowly began to relax, melting into his kisses and his hands as he worked her into submission.  
She barely responded to his advances, unsure of how to do so, but beginning to welcome them as an unfamiliar heat spread through her body. 

Loki sensed the conflict within her, knowing that he was having an effect over her. If he could only push her a margin farther, he could overpower her completely. He could take her as a man should, relishing in the sensations as he buried himself inside her. The images filled his mind, lighting his desire even further.  
He could not let her go.

Taking advantage of her hesitation, he pressed his lips firmly to hers in a demanding kiss and placed both hands underneath her rear. He lifted her quickly off the cobbled floor and walked the short distance to the wall with his mouth still connected with hers. As the stone façade pressed into her back through the tunic, she let out a small whimper. She had no choice but to press her body further into Loki’s, trying to absorb his warmth and escape the cold leaking through the fabric. In doing so, she unknowingly pushed her hips against his and her eyes snapped open at the sudden hardness pushing against the apex of her thighs. 

The feeling was foreign to her, and she looked into the deep green depths of Loki’s eyes as she pulled her lips from his. Her skin was flushed and warm, she could feel the blush on her normally pale skin. Nerves pulsed through her limps, making her feel unsteady and weak. Her brain was screaming NO at what was occurring between them, but her curiosity caused her to stay planted where she was. The conflict waged a war inside her; the physical feel of his body against hers and the same desire that she remembered from the echo of her dream fought against her inability to judge the situation or feel comfortable. Her response was to flee, but even had she wanted to, her body was trapped between his and the granite wall.

Loki gazed down into her eyes, waiting for the moment he would spot the release in her resolve. After a moment of careful calculation he saw her concede, whether she realized it or not. 

With a growl low in his throat, he took her lips once more in his. Nipping her bottom lip between her teeth, his tongue pushed its way into her mouth and began to caress her own. 

She began to actively respond to his touch, moving her lips against his own and following his actions with a lighter touch. As Loki realized she was mimicking what he was doing to her, he decided to take it further. 

He ground his hips hard against her, unable to stop the smile from crossing his lips as she let out an involuntary gasp. He felt her heat against his erection, knowing that despite her innocence and hesitation, she held desire for him. Her hands tentatively rested on his chest, her fingers curling as he worked himself against her. 

Loki’s lips moved across her jaw and down to her neck, suckling and biting the skin where it was most sensitive. In the hollow of her neck he ran his tongue in light circles, feeling her shiver against him and the bumps on her skin rise up against his tongue. 

“Eira...” He whispered into her ear, “Let me take you…” With his words, his hands slid under her tunic and undershirt, gliding against her smooth skin until he found the swell of her breasts. He kneaded them firmly, rolling her nipples between his fingers. The sound that rose in her throat was not of any coherence, but alerted him to her growing adherence to what he wanted.

It had been so long since someone had bowed to his desires, and he was drunk on the power she was giving him. 

With one hand still caressing her breast, he moved the other to her hip and pulled her down upon his erection as he pushed himself up. The friction from the fabric of his pants ground against her most sensitive area, eliciting yet another throaty gasp. 

“Oh, do you like that?” Loki pulled back from her neck, grinning at the reaction he had upon her. When she didn’t answer, he pushed her chin up to force her eyes to his. “If you do, I shall continue.”

After several seconds of silence, her grey eyes shifted away as she nodded slightly. It was a barely imperceptible shift in movement, but Loki was eying her as a predator does its prey. Immediately he seized upon her, pulling his tunic off her body and pulling the drawstring of her undershirt open in one swift movement. He pushed her body up and pulled off what he could of her undershirt before delving into her exposed chest. 

His lips found a nipple and he kissed it lightly, enjoying the way it rose and pebbled against his touch in the open air. Running his tongue around it, he mimicked the actions on the other breast with his hand. 

Eira was coming undone, he could see it clearly. Her freckled chest, usually pale, was now flushed with heat and desire; her neck showing the strain of her struggle with the sensations that were bombarding her body. Her eyes were clenched shut and her breath was strained, causing him to smile in satisfaction. However, it wasn’t enough. He needed more.

Setting her down slowly, he pulled the clothes that remained on her body off. He waited several moments until her eyes finally shifted to his before he spoke.  
“Now,” He began, a feeling of power filling his body, “You will look into my eyes as I do this. If you close them, I shall cease. Understood?”  
She swallowed tightly, unable to use her voice. She nodded once again, both apprehensive and excited about what he was to do to her. 

He spread her legs apart and gently caressed the inside of her thighs, working his way up to her folds. His fingers found her warm and glistening as he offered her a teasing stroke. “Now, now, for one so innocent, you surely are enjoying this…” He kept his eyes locked with hers as his fingers pushed themselves deeper into her, and his satisfaction grew as Eira began to breathe heavily. As he added a second finger inside her, her eyes shut tightly.

He pulled his hand free immediately. “My dear Eira, what did I say?” 

She slowly opened her eyes. “I- I just… The sensation is too much…” Her voice was hoarse. 

Loki laughed. “Yes, it is, and it shall improve if I continue. But to do so, you must listen to me. If you do not, you will not like the consequences.” He wasn’t entirely sure of what those consequences would be, but at that moment he knew the power he held over her would cause her to make the right choice. 

Without a word, her eyes locked with his once more. “Here, perhaps I shall do you a favor to make it easier on you,” he started, “Only if you promise to return it, though.” 

As his fingers found her warmth once more, he began kissing her breasts as he had done previously. Winding his tongue around her tight, pebbled nipple, he felt her grow even wetter around his hand. Biting it lightly, he enjoyed the way her body tightened involuntarily. With his thumb stroking her nub lightly, his fingers began to ready her entrance for him so he could slid into her warmth easily, 

The entire time, her eyes never left his. She watched obediently, afraid to break eye contact lest she suffer his wrath. Unsure of what he was capable of, she was steadily growing aware of the consuming lust she felt. At this rate, her nerves would be obliterated and she would be blind with desire. The thought was startling, but yet she was still unable to go against his words. 

Suddenly, he ceased his actions. “It is time, Eira.” Loki kicked off his boots and began pulling his pants down, causing his erection to spring free from its binding. “Turn around and brace yourself against the wall.” 

Eira did as she was told, her body shaking and covered in goose bumps. “Now, spread your legs.” He instructed simply, and she followed obediently, setting her feet apart. 

“It shall hurt at first, but be patient and the sensations will improve.” Loki spoke from behind her as he reached around her front to caress her swollen pearl once more. In one swift movement, he pressed himself into her core, a groan escaping from deep in his chest. The sensation of her velvety folds around him was more than words could manage. 

Eira cried out, her hands gripping the granite wall and her teeth pressing down into her lower lip tightly. 

“Shhh…” He whispered to her, increasing the pressure of the strokes with his fingers and moving the opposite hand to her breast. He could feel her growing wet again around him as he paused, holding still inside her.

He ached to thrust, to take her violently as his, but as a virgin he must take her easily lest he scare her away for good. What he wanted was to continue to have power over someone, be it sexual or not. If Eira was willing to concede to his sexual desires, he could gain the power he craved and release his needs all in one act. It was the perfect arrangement and he could not risk taking her so roughly as to damage her. 

Loki felt her loosen around his shaft, and began thrusting slowly. Burying himself deep inside her, the noises she was producing spurred him on with enthusiasm. Whimpers and breathy gasps escaped her throat, filling him with a sense of pride that she was enjoying the sensations he was causing. 

He pressed his middle finger to the bundle of nerves at the peak of her entrance, rubbing firm circles as she cried out even louder. At this cue, he removed the hand from her breast and braced her hip as he began plunging deeper into her. It had been so long since his last encounter, this, paired with the tightness of her virgin body, meant the sensations were overwhelming him and bringing him to the brink at a startling rate. 

Loki slowed his hips, pulling in and out of her slowly. The tempo was painstaking, but the feeling of her folds against him was intensified. He pressed her up against the wall until her back was flush with his, the ridges of her spine pressing into his chest. Biting her ear lightly, he rubbed the sting away with his tongue and repeated the action over her ear and neck until she was moaning his name. 

Unable to hold his patience any longer, he resumed his forceful thrusts into her, reveling in the pleasure he was taking from her body. After several more thrusts, Loki recognized the tightening that signaled his imminent release. He pulled his erection from her quickly, glistening with her wetness, and turned Eira around to face him.

“Finish me.” He spoke with finality, taking her hand and wrapping it around his shaft. The new feeling of her fingers around him almost made his legs go weak, but he pulled her hand back and forth to show her what she needed to do. “Quickly.” 

Eira did as she was instructed, hesitantly applying pressure with her fingers wrapped around him and mimicking his motions. She watched his face, his eyes locked on her hand and his neck covered in a sheen of sweat. She increased her tempo, fascinated as his teeth clenched and he gripped the wall behind her shoulders. 

With a guttural cry, Loki released himself in several spurts of warm liquid against her stomach. She gasped, surprised to see the way in which it happened and pulled her hand away as he continued groaning. Several seconds later, after he was completely spent, he lifted his head and locked eyes with her. 

“Now, I shall return the favor.” He pressed her against the wall quickly, resuming their original position with his lips suckling her neck and his fingers working her folds. She was sensitive to his touch, each stroke bringing spots to her vision. After a few moments of firm, quick strokes, she began feeling a sensation of mounting pressure. It grew as Loki continued his movements, one hand caressing her breast as she found she liked. 

Spreading her legs wantonly, the sensations he was coaxing from her exploded in a hot rush of pleasure, causing her to cry out loudly as he had and her body to go limp in his arms.


	8. Falling Slowly

Loki gazed at the girl in his arms, something like wonder on his face. The after effects of desire washed over his skin as her eyelashes flickered. “Sweet Eira,” he murmured as he pulled her tightly into his arms. She was unconscious, her body limp and he wondered if it would be shameful of him to take advantage of her sleeping state. The taste of her still overwhelmed him and he longed to kiss her skin once more. He resisted though. “What a mystery you are, Eira,” he whispered as his fingers trailed through her dark curls splayed on the soft green cushions. 

Suddenly he stood and crossed the chamber to his fallen clothing; his fingers tightened around the Golden Apple which he removed from the pocket of his abandoned pants. He had nearly forgotten its presence, what with talk of Eir’s legacy and subsequently the education of Eira. His lips twitched at the memories of teaching his little visitor. 

There was no doubt that this day had held more entertainment than he’d had for years. 

He held the Apple up to his eyes and pondered what its tart flesh would mean for him. He sat slowly upon the cushions beside Eira and cradled the Apple in his hands. He should eat it now before she woke; he hesitated though, before bringing it to his lips. 

“Is that…” He paused at the sound of Eira’s sleep muddled voice and his eyes flashed to the girl lying at his hip. He watched as her fingers stretched out to stroke the golden flesh of the Apple and he shivered as he imagined her stroking his skin in such wonder. 

Sighing, he lowered it from his lips and held it out for her to see. “Yes, it is a Golden Apple of Immortality. Have you never seen one, princess?” he said, his voice wry. 

Eira’s skin bumped at the sound of his voice and something she now recognized as desire rushed over her body like fire and she shivered. “The Apples are only for those who have gained their majority,” she murmured. She smiled slightly as he dropped the heavy fruit in her open palm; she did not see him shiver as her fingers tightened upon it. “I was only a few months from my first taste,” she said sadly as her nails dragged over its glowing flesh.

Loki was distracted from her words, his dark green eyes intent upon the movements of her stroking fingers. Her silver eyes, iridescent with the golden light of the fruit, captivated him and before either could think, his lips were on hers, fierce and hard. She moaned as her already bruised flesh molded into his and he resisted taking her once more. 

Neither of their bodies had recovered yet from their first pairing. “Loki,” she groaned as his hands gathered her to his chest. 

“Yes?” he muttered as his lips trailed from her lips down to her breasts. She gasped as his teeth pulled upon her pebbled nipple and she nearly forgot what she wished to ask him. 

“From whom did you receive the Apple?” she gasped as his lips burned upon her breasts. 

Loki froze at her words and raised his head to look upon her; her eyes were sharp with desire and interest and he forced himself to think on her question. His eyes slid from her gaze to rest once more upon the softly glowing fruit she held. 

Should he tell her the truth of his visitor this morn or should he fabricate a half-truth to placate her? 

Before he could come to a decision she pulled herself away from his touch. Her eyes narrowed at his hesitation and she said, her voice harsh with suspicion, “Someone brought this to you while I slept!” 

Still he hesitated, for once unsure of what to say and she moaned in horror. “You did not wake me?! Who was it? Did my father come or the Guardian himself?”

His green eyes rose to hers and she drew in a sharp breath at the guilt in his eyes. “You bastard,” she snarled as she scrambled upright. “You knew that I desired to leave this odious prison, that I do not rightly belong here and yet you deceived me! How could you?”

He opened his mouth to tell her of the cruel words Balder had spoken of her but he did not find the words. Instead he watched the small trust she had in him fade away to be replaced by hatred. 

“You bastard,” she snarled once more and she ran from the center of the maze. 

Loki gazed after her retreating back in amazement; he had thought she would not wish to return home after the cruelty of her family. He was wrong. He had not expected her to respond so violently and he shivered at the memory of the hatred in her eyes. 

Had he truly deceived her for not telling her of her father’s visit? Had that been deception or protection?

The center of the maze seemed to echo with her cold words and he shivered. What should he do now? Go after her or let her pout? He lowered his head in his hands and sighed. This day had already been far longer than any he’d experienced within this horrid prison. All he wished for was to eat of his Apple and then to rest as the shadows deepened. 

But he could not do that. Eira had taken his Apple. Muttering angrily to himself he rose and gathered his fallen clothes. Dressing he decided he would wait for the girl to return. After all, she would have to soon ere she experience the night terrors of the labyrinth. 

“I will not save her if she refuses to return to safety,” he snarled to himself as he paced. “Stubborn child. If she will not listen to reason then that is not my fault.”

He paced and waited, for how long he was not sure, but when the shadows began their slow creep along the edges of the maze and his intriguing visitor had not yet returned, he knew he would have to retrieve her. 

He sighed as he exited the center of the maze. “Curse the Guardian for sending this maid to my prison. She is a far worse torment than any I have experienced before.” Hesitating at the first branch off from the center, he gazed to the left and watched his stone trail fade into the shadows. Would she have returned to the pool? Or would she have struck out on her own?

He closed his eyes and listened to the labyrinth slowly waken. His senses sharpened as her scent washed over him and he smiled a feral smile; he was right. She had returned to the pool. 

“She does not lack common sense then,” he said as he headed in that direction, being ever careful to not disturb the trail he’d left for her in the dawn. When he entered the dim chamber, he hesitated. He could feel her presence and he winced at the sound of her soft crying. The pain and homesickness in her voice made his heart withe in pity. He did not pause to think of why he, Loki Laufeyson, would feel pity for a child he should rightly loathe and wish to dominate. But her soft tears made his guilt grow and as he stepped into the cavern, his eyes registered a soft golden glow radiating from the pool’s edge. 

The Apple, he realized, was sitting on a bench and lit the cavernous space with its cheerful golden light. She had carried it with her, most likely taking comfort from its warmth and smell of home. 

He shook his head in bewilderment and as he drew level with the bench he once again wondered why his main desire was not to snatch the Apple up and regain his immortality. Why was he intent on healing this girl, on making her realize he had only sought to protect her from her father? 

His fingers brushed the Apple’s silky skin and he shivered as he remembered her flesh pebbling under his touch earlier this day. The memory of her musky scent washed over him and his lips lifted in a vague smile as he stroked a finger down the Apple’s curved side. But he did not retrieve it from its perch; instead he searched the shadows for the princess. He found her on the opposite side of the pool from where he stood; she was perched on a submerged ledge which he knew stretched out halfway across the pool. Her arms were wrapped around her knees and she was watching him warily. Her teary gray eyes glowed with the Apple’s luminosity and he shivered at the hopeless sorrow in her gaze. 

They were silent, the tension slowly building within the quiet chamber, and he studied her carefully. She’d removed his stitches from the wraith’s attack he noted, and the only sign that she had been wounded was a thin scar shining palely upon her cheek. Her dark hair was piled haphazardly upon the top of her head so that it would not get wet once more, soft curls draped her cheeks and down the nape of her neck and he longed to twist his fingers in their dark tresses.

Eira Balderdottr had matured, he realized; gone was the timid child he had held this morning. Instead he gazed upon a woman. A woman of boundless sorrow and hurt. He was unsure if having her hair up off her face was the reason for her sudden maturity or if the events of this past day and the days before had aided this process. 

A little of both, he suspected. 

As he gazed at her, he longed to cup her head and kiss away the sadness which lined her delicate features. But he knew she would not allow him near her body again. She did not trust him any longer. And with good reason. His guilt grew as he realized this and he met her wary gaze sadly. She would not trust him, not until he explained his deception and apologized for his actions. 

A small, cynical, Master-fueled part of him wondered at his desire to rectify the wrongs he had done to this girl. She was the daughter of his enemies, the niece of his idiot of a foster brother and the daughter of that bitch Sif who had denied him so many times in their youth. He should destroy this spoiled princess, break her, shatter her upon his wrath and when her father next returned to torture him, he should cast her broken body at his feet and watch Balder’s will die. 

He shivered at the images his musings called to mind and his green eyes smoldered in the dark shadows slowly filling the chamber. He wondered what she would do if he took her the way the Master decreed all women should be taken. He wondered if she would respond as lasciviously as she had with him in their haven. 

Dark desire began to overwhelm him as he pictured the cruelties he would visit upon her innocent flesh. 

And then his dark eyes met her anguished gray eyes and he froze. 

The Master’s cruel torments drained from his mind at the violent shivers shaking her slender form and as he gazed upon her, the slow stream of her tears began once more, trailing along the edges of her aquiline nose. 

Then she spoke, her voice hoarse with her sorrow: “If you plan to kill me, now would be the time.” 

He flinched at the hopelessness of her tone and before he could think on what he did or how little time they had before darkness truly fell within the maze, he disrobed and slid into the warm waters of the pool. She shrank away from him, pulling her feet more firmly upon the ledge on which she perched and he couldn’t help chuckling as he drifted towards her. 

“Why would I kill you Eira?” he murmured as he neared her still violently shaking body. She stiffened as his fingers drifted over her submerged ankles to brush her muscular calves. 

She closed her eyes and whispered as his fingers trailed up her legs, “Please don’t touch me.” She trembled at his gentle caresses and felt her insides turn to water as his fingers brushed her thighs. She pulled her legs ever more tightly to her chest and his hands slid from her silken skin. 

“Eira,” he murmured, his voice begging her to open her eyes and look upon him. “Please, I did not mean to deceive you or harm you.” She shook her head slightly and his lisp twitched as several twisted curls fell from her hasty knot at the top of her head to brush her cheeks. “Believe me,” he whispered as he rested his feet on the ledge beneath hers and gathered her tumbled curls in his hands. As he returned them to their rightful position she flinched from his touch and her gray eyes snapped open; she gasped at his close proximity and he noted the jump of her pulse. “Eira,” he whispered, his fingers trailing from the top of her head down to the pulse fluttering in her pale throat. Her eyelids flickered once more and he was pleased to see her pupils dilate as her body reacted to his touch.

“Why?” she ground out as desire began to wash over her skin. “Why did you not tell me my father came to this prison?” 

His fingers stilled their burning strokes; Loki gazed at the delicate collar bones his hands framed. How to tell her of Balder’s words? Would she even believe him? Or would she look at him, Loki Laufeyson, the greatest traitor Asgard had ever known, and thus scorn and curse him? Pain gripped him as he imagined her hateful words and the disbelief in her eyes. 

His hands dropped from her body and he turned away from her; he did not see the way her body yearned towards his. She took a shuddering breath and forced herself to focus. But her body still burned with the ghosts of his strong caresses and she longed to feel his fingers once more upon her skin. 

Suddenly he spoke and she stilled at the anger in his voice. “Your father came, yes, but he came with anger in his voice, princess. They are searching for you, Eira.” He ignored the way her eyes lit with hope and continued his recounting of Balder’s visit. “They believe your actions are but that of a child’s; impetuous, spoiled and beyond reason. They do not understand why you disobey their orders, why you rebel against their decree.” Her sharp intake of breath was loud in the still chamber and he drifted once more to where she sat. He stood upon the lower ledge beneath hers and when he was level with her, his hand rose out of the water to stroke her tear stained cheek. “Balder seeks you but he does not wish for your forgiveness. He will force you into marriage, much as Bor sought to force Eir upon that Jotun prince so many eons ago.” 

Eira was breathing heavily, horror filling her eyes. “No,” she choked out as she swayed dangerously in the shallow waters of the pool. “What you say is not true. Surely with my running away they have realized my loathing for this pairing…” Her voice was quiet and as Loki gazed into her eyes hoping he would not see her disbelief and subsequent loathing, he realized she believed him. 

“Eira,” he murmured as he cupped her face gently. “I am sorry if this has further harmed you. I did not wish to force you as well to do something you do not wish to do. I came to Balder ready to tell him of your arrival in this maze but when I heard his words and saw his lack of reason, I decided that I would aid you in some other way. I am sorry if this harmed you further. That was not my intent.” 

She gazed at him, her gray eyes wide as his thumbs stroked her tears away and she whispered, “Why? Why help me? I am the daughter of those who imprisoned you. I am a princess of Asgard. Why protect me from my father? Why ally yourself with me?” He stilled his stroking as his eyes shifted from hers. She caught his hand as it fell from her cheek and said, “Loki. Why did you take it upon yourself to aid me?” 

He hesitated and then swam back towards the entrance of the chamber. He did not answer her and she frowned as he pulled himself out of the pool. As he dried himself with his shirt she asked, “Loki?” her voice loud in the stillness and he stiffened. 

“Come princess,” he said, his voice harsh with stifled emotion. “Darkness falls and soon those waters will not be safe.” He glanced at her over his shoulder and she paused at the dark emotion in his eyes. She did not move, though and he sighted as her jaw set stubbornly. 

“No,” she snapped. “I will not move till you tell me why you decided to help me. I still do not understand.” She folder her arms over her knees and he sighed once more. 

“It is no wonder you are the bane of my brother’s existence, princess,” he said. “Come, remove yourself from the waters ere you stumble upon yet another monster of this prison.” 

She waited to see if he would surrender to her and then when he continued to dress and ignore her, she sighed and slid into off the step she perched upon to follow him across the pool. He tracked her progress from the corner of his eyes so when she suddenly stopped and gasped, he turned quickly towards her and snapped, “What?! What is wrong, Eira?” 

Her gray eyes were wide with fear as she whispered, “Something touched my leg.” 

Horror washed over him and his voice was harsh as he shouted, “Get out now!” 

His panic fueled her as she rushed to the edge of the pool. When her breath fogged as she gasped, “The water-it’s c-c-cold,” his heart froze and he threw himself to the edge. Stretching his hand out for her to take, he snarled, “Hurry now, princess. The monster comes!” Her fingers slid against his and for one brief moment he thought he would be able to save her once more. Her gray eyes were wide as his fingers closed around the delicate bones of her wrist and then she screamed. 

He watched in horror as a black tentacle rose out of the suddenly roiling water to wrap itself around her throat; when her screams were choked off he strained to pull her free of the beast. He did not succeed. “No!” Loki snarled as he felt her fingers sliding from his. Still more tentacles rose from the water to wrap around the thrashing girl and he felt his muscles begin to strain as she was pulled from his grasp. “Eira! Do not let go!” he shouted, terror fueling him as he strained over the dark pool. 

But the beast would not so lightly release its prize; sensing a fierce competitor, one of its tentacles released from tis meal and struck the thing holding its meal. Loki gasped as the thick limb struck him solidly in the chest and tossed him across the chamber; as his head struck the rough stones of the floor he thought, I failed her. I let her go. 

Struggling to rise he groaned her name and tried to blink the stars from his gaze. “Eira, please be safe.” 

There was no sound in the chamber; his breath fogged as he panted heavily, panic fueled adrenaline forcing him to focus and forget the pain pounding in his temples. As he rushed back to the edge of the pool, the stillness of its surface made him fall to his knees. “Curse you Odin!” he swore as he tore his shirt off and prepared to dive into the water.

Before he dove, the soft golden light of the Apple caught his eye; without second thought he scooped up the fruit and sank his teeth deeply into its flesh. Energy-white hot and beyond welcome-began to tear through his limbs but he did not pause to watch his body transform with the mystical properties of the fruit. 

He thought only of the girl drowning in the depths of the pool. “Sweet Valhalla let her be safe,” he murmured as he prepared to throw himself after the princess and the monster. 

As he dove, a cloaked figure appeared in the threshold of the chamber. Soft white light surrounded it and the smell of brine and wildflowers drifted through the stagnant air of the labyrinth. 

“Be gone, you foul beast,” a woman’s soft voice murmured and there was a flash of golden light. She waited, her gray eyes sparkling within the depths of her hood and after a few moments of tense silence she sighed as the water rippled and Loki emerged bearing a sodden and deathly pale Eira. 

The figure watched as he pushed her body out of the water and then pulled himself out with shaking arms. He sagged upon the paving stones beside the princess, for the moment incapable of much more than coughing and catching his breath. 

Then he turned to her and his broken whispers drifted over to the watching woman who smiled gently upon them.

“Eira? Eira can you hear me? Oh please, sweet princess, please do not be dead. I am so sorry, so very sorry. I should have helped you, should have saved you better.” As he spoke he pushed her hair aside and listened for her breath. There was none and the woman finally spoke.

“You must pump the water from her lungs, prince. She inhaled water in her battle against the beast.” 

Loki jumped at the voice speaking behind him and as water dripped into his eyes snarled, “Who are you? What do you here?” His hands rested protectively upon Eira’s body and as the cloaked figure moved into the chamber, the pale light surrounding it illuminated the chamber. His eyes widened and he gathered Eira into his arms, prepared to run with her away from this new specter. 

“Fear not, Loki Odinson, I will not harm you or the woman you hold,” the woman’s soft voice said and he stiffened as she knelt before them. “I seek only to aid you.” 

“Who are you?” he asked once more, distrust coloring his tone. 

She smiled and suddenly her cloak was gone. Instead she wore clothes such as he had only seen on Earth. Indigo colored pants, leather boots and a knitted top clothed her, giving her an alien air in this ancient labyrinth. 

“Eir,” he choked, wonder filling his eyes. 

She smiled and rested one finger upon Eira’s forehead, “Aye, cousin. Eir is what I was known as upon Asgard.” Her eyes sparkled as suddenly Eira began to cough and sputter in his arms. Turning her gaze once more to wildly staring Loki she said, “Turn her on her side and pat her back firmly. She needs to cough the water from her lungs.” She watched with an expert eye as he did so and as Eira revived she murmured, “I have come to warn you both of the danger you are in.” 

Loki turned his eyes from the shuddering girl he held and his heart froze at the trepidation in their visitor’s eyes. “What danger could be worse than any we have experienced within this maze?” he murmured, his arms tightening upon an unconscious Eira.

Eir hesitated, her gray eyes, which were so similar to her young cousin’s, dark with worry and said, “There are those who seek to slay you and force this princess from your arms.” Then as he opened his mouth to protest she set a hand gently on his shoulder and continued, “The guardian and I are seeking to delay them; already Heimdall has led Balder astray but Thor grows suspicious.” 

Loki’s arms tightened around Eira who was still unconscious and he choked out, “Why do you seek to stall them? Surely you of all people would wish your cousin safely returned to her family.” 

Eir smiled gently upon him and stroked her fingers down his cheek, “Do you know nothing? You, who are so versed in the lore of our family?”

He froze at the fire in her touch and narrowed his eyes, “You believe Eira should not be returned to Balder or Thor? Why?” 

She smiled and lowered her eyes to the girl in his arms, “Her path does not coincide with the plans of her family. She is destined for someone else, someone who is not in this Asgard.” 

His eyes were wide as he stared upon the woman kneeling in front of him and he tried to ignore the pain filling his heart. He should not have been surprised; Eira was a princess and he was a traitor, a madman. How could she belong to him?

“I see,” he choked as he gathered the girl more firmly in his arms and carried her from the chamber. “Then I must make sure she survives to walk that path.”

Eir watched him go with an enigmatic smile on her lips. “The path is not always for us to understand Odinson,” she murmured softly. And then she followed him from the suddenly peaceful chamber. Before she went though, she scooped up the still half-uneaten Apple. It would be needed ere the night was through. 

He should not have forgotten it. 

Loki’s mind was all awhirl. Eir was here with tidings of ill-omens. What did this mean? And who was Eira destined for? Who did she belong to? 

His arms tightened around her slender body possessively; she was his, he’d taken her, saved her and loved her more than any man heretofore. Why did Eir wish to steal her away from him?

Suddenly he realized that he would fight for her. He would not let her leave his side so easily. 

Eir’s smile grew as his thoughts washed over her. The lovers’ she guarded had an unusual path indeed, but suddenly it did not seem so dark to her.


	9. It Is Good

“I must return to Asgard,” Eir murmured sometime in the wee hours of the night. She was frowning as she stroked her young cousin’s face; Eira had not stirred during the night and Eir could sense Loki’s unease. 

He was unsure of this sudden reemergence of Eir. He did not wholly trust her. Or himself for that matter. Eir watched him pace, her eyes shadowed by the hood she kept raised against the chill of the maze. Somehow her magics worked in this desolate prison and she had conjured more blankets to swaddle Eira in. Occasionally he would stop at Eira’s side and assure she was tightly wrapped against the cold and Eir’s lips would lift in a gentle smile at the tender care he took with the young girl.

Traitor he may be, but he was not without a heart, it would seem. 

“Heimdall summons me,” she said with a sigh. Rising, she caught his hand as he passed her and murmured, “Care for her Loki. I shall dissuade any from your path, you will be safe for a time yet.” She smiled gently upon him and he shivered as her warm fingers brushed his pulse. 

“What do I do with the princess? I have limited skills in healing-what if she does not wake?” His dark green eyes were panicked at the thought of Eir leaving her cousin in his care and his free hand tightened upon the Apple. 

Eir glanced at that hand and smiled gently. “Oh cousin,” she said with a soft laugh. “You will know what to do.” She cupped his cheek and he shivered at the all encompassing love he saw there. “Besides,” she chuckled. “She simply sleeps. The activities of the past day have tired her greatly and I suspect she has gotten very little sleep in recent weeks. Do not fret.” 

Then, with another sigh, she gathered her magics about her like a cloak. Loki could not help but gasp at her obvious power and he backed away as her form shimmered in the soft light of the maze. Gone was the dark haired ancestor of Eira; instead a woman of middling years with ash blond hair and pale blue eyes stood before him and he shivered again.

“You carry great magics, Eir,” he murmured, respect and awe coloring his voice. 

She smiled gently, wrinkles appearing at the corner of her kind eyes and she placed a work-callused hand upon his cheek. “As do you, Loki Odinson. You must simply remember that love is the greatest weapon of all. It will bolster your courage, warm you when you are cold and shield you from the hatred of those who wish to conquer you. Remember that, in the days to come. Remember how to love.” Her voice rang in the still maze and Loki shivered as the light sharpened about them. 

“That is a tall-order for one such as I,” he whispered, his hand rising to grip Eir’s tightly. 

Her smile deepened as she saw his pain and fear and she stroked his cheek gently. “Because you are Jotun? Or because you are a traitor?” she asked, her voice soft. 

His eyes fluttered closed as pain wrenched at the memory of Odin casting him out and his brother begging him to repent. “Some of both, I suspect,” he murmured, agony twisting his words. 

She only shook her head and cupped his face gently between her hands. “All are capable of love, Loki. Never forget that.” After a moment of comfortable silence she sighed and her hands fell from his face. “I must go. The hour is late and there are dark tidings upon Asgard,” she murmured, her eyes worried. 

Loki nodded, his hand falling uselessly at his side. “Be safe, Eir,” he said, his green eyes thoughtful as he gazed at the goddess. “Thank you for coming to us.” 

She bowed her head. “It was no trouble. Think on my words Loki. And do not question the path that is set for you.” 

Before he could respond she was gone. The air rippled around him, leaving behind the scent of salt water and wildflowers. He shivered at the thought of the power she commanded. He doubted even Thor could appear or disappear at will within the heart of the maze. Only one of great strength could do so. 

He hoped he would never have to cross wits with the goddess. Even at his full strength he doubted he would come out the victor of that bout. His lips lifted in a private smile as he twisted the Apple slowly between his fingers. He was jerked out of his reverie though when Eira’s hoarse voice spoke from her nest of blankets. 

“What are you smiling at?”

He turned quickly to see her gray eyes peering wearily at him from her pillows and his smile deepened. “You should be sleeping,” he murmured as he lowered himself to her side. She only shook her head and he sighed. “Are you in pain, princess?” His fingers rose unbidden to stroke her cheek and he paused when she shivered at his touch. 

“No,” she whispered, the lie showing in her soft voice and shadowed eyes. His lips twitched and he reached for the brew Eir had made over a tiny flame she had conjured with a simple snap of her fingers. She had pilfered the supplies from Eira’s kit, stating the herbs would ease her once she woke. 

“Here, you silly girl,” he said, his hand cradling the back of her head so that she could sip the potion. She coughed as it slid down her throat and he used his sleeve to wipe her chin where some had spilt. “You need to rest.” 

Her eyes were dark in the shadows of the maze and she stared at him as he settled upon the blankets beside her. “Who was the woman who came to us?” she whispered. She leaned her head closer to him and he wrapped his arms around her swaddled body. 

His lips twitched in a smile and he laughed softly. “You will not believe me when I tell you,” he said, his voice wry.

Her fingers knotted in his shirt as she remembered the cold waters of the pool. “What was that monster in the pool? And how did I survive that attack? I felt the water flood my lungs…”

Her voice trailed off and Loki felt his heart freeze at the terror rolling off of her body like a miasma. “It was a monster of the depths of Alfheim, something that only emerges within darkness upon the coldest nights. I encountered one as a child and Thor saved me ere it slew me. Odin placed it here, along with all of the other monsters, to torture me. To force me to remember the darkness of my youth.” 

Her body was tight against his and he felt her going limp as sleep once more took her. “That is horrid,” she whispered. “You do not deserve these evil tortures, Loki.” 

He tried to think of something to say to those words but her soft breaths stalled him. Glancing at her, he saw she slept. His hand rose to stroke through her tangled tresses and a soft smile touched his lips. 

Dawn came to the maze and Eira slept, unawares that her companion cradled her tightly, silently vowing to himself that he would remember the goddess’ words and try to remember how to love. 

Perhaps she was right. Perhaps love was the greatest weapon of all. 

**

Eira was hungry when next she woke. As her eyes fluttered open to the soft light of the maze she groaned. Clapping her hand to her stomach she muttered, “I could do with some bread and cheese now.” 

“Would an Apple suffice?” came the reply and she squawked as half a golden Apple was thrust under her nose. 

She rolled to her side, pushing the Apple away and snapped, “I cannot eat your Apple Loki. That is for your consumption only!”

His lips twitched in a wry smile and he rolled on his own side so he faced her. “You are most temperamental when famished. Interesting.”

She only rolled her eyes and kicked the blankets aside. “Do not tease, Loki. Eat your Apple. I shall make do,” she grumbled as she headed for her abandoned pack. Arlor, so long neglected, nipped her fingers affectionately as she pulled out her spare clothes and began to dress. 

She stilled when he came up behind her and trailed his fingers up her spine. “I will not eat of my Apple until you join me, princess,” he said, his voice silky smooth in the still maze. “You need to heal yet, your body will be weakened from all of the attacks and…other events…you have experienced within this maze.” 

Her cheeks flamed at his not so subtle reminder of their coupling two nights past and she turned on him, anger lighting her eyes. “My body is not weak! And who is at fault for all of the ‘events’ I have experienced in this wretched prison? Not I, Loki Laufeyson!”

“My, the temper you have, sweet girl,” he said as his eyebrows arched. “I would think on my offer, Eira. Already your body has slowed its healing processes.” His fingers once more brushed her silken skin, pressing gently upon a black bruise marring her ribs and she shuddered at his touch. 

“Please do not touch me,” she whispered breathlessly, her hand rising to rest against the wall as her knees trembled. It was not from his touch, she told herself, but from the attack she had experienced the day before. She shook her head and began to dress, all the while striving to hid the shaking of her limbs and the weakness suddenly rolling over her body. She had never felt such a lack of energy, never felt so drained…

Loki watched her carefully and when she almost fell while pulling on her shirt, he caught her behind the knees and lifted her into his arms. “Enough, you stubborn girl,” he growled as he carried her, protesting, to the middle of the chamber. “You will eat of the Apple and then you will rest the entire day.”

She started to protest but stopped when he pinched her on the soft flesh of her side. “Very well,” she said, her tone grudging. He smiled as he set her once more upon the blankets and pulled her shirt the rest of the way over her head. 

“You are such a child,” he said, his voice gentle as she shoved her arms through the soft linen sleeves of her deep blue tunic. 

“And you are an insufferable ass,” she groused.

He dropped at her side and once more held the half of an Apple out to her. She hesitated, her fingers hovering in the air above his and she asked, “What will it be like?”

He caught her hand in his, spread her fingers and set the silken fruit in her palm. “It will be amazing,” he said softly, reverently, as she held it up to her eyes. 

The golden flesh of the Apple shone and its spicy scent rolled over her, making her eyes light. Already he noticed a change in her countenance. He knew the moment she ate the Apple her body would begin to change, to blossom. Gone would be her girlish figure. Instead she would mature into a stunning dark haired beauty. 

She would look very like Eir, he realized with a jolt. 

She swallowed, the muscles in her fine neck moving and her gray eyes captured his. “Eat with me?” she asked, trepidation in her voice. 

He nodded and raised his half of the Apple to his lips. “Together,” he murmured as the flesh touched his lips. 

Their simultaneous bites were loud in the suddenly tense silence of the labyrinth. 

Hot white energy surged through the center of the maze and Eira gasped as she was engulfed by the hot scent of the Apple. Her throat burned as she swallowed her first bite and she almost dropped the fruit. 

But then he was there, his body glowing as the Apple wrought its change in him. “You must continue to eat, Eira,” he whispered, his fingers cool on her burning cheek. “The first time you eat of the Apple is always the hardest. But you must not falter.” 

She nodded and took another bite, the spicy taste of the Apple nearly choking her and she groaned as she felt her skin tightening and writhing. What was the fruit doing to her? Why did this hurt?

Her eyes locked on his and together they took their last bites. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she watched his body tauten to the lean figure he had borne as a young prince of Asgard. His beauty, tempered by the years he had spent in this prison, was deep and abiding and she felt something other than the Apple’s energy blossom in the pit of her belly. 

She recognized it from the night before…from the “events” they had undertaken together. 

“You have to eat the seeds,” he murmured, his voice far deeper, far more melodic than ever she had heard it hence and a deep shiver rocked through her core. 

How could someone already so dark and desirable grow ever more so?

He knelt before her and opened his hand to show her the two seeds nestled in his palm. They glowed white hot upon his pale skin and she could not help stroking their pulsing shells. 

She froze when she saw her hand; gone was the dirt and scrapes she had received during her trials within the maze. Instead her fingers were long and supple, strong, the nails perfect half-moons. The skin arching over her delicate bones shone like white silk and she couldn’t help a wondering laugh from slipping past her lips. 

“How…” she whispered, her ears pricking at the melodic tone of her voice. His fingers stroked along her cheek and his voice was soft as he leaned close to whisper in her ear, “Your beauty has grown, sweet princess.” 

He caught her hand, spreading her fingers so she could see the two glowing seeds nestled there. Holding his own out, she shivered as the warm light washed over their hands and arms. 

Glancing up, another shiver rocked her at the soft wonder in his eyes. No man had ever looked at her this way. Not even this self-same man the night before. He had only looked at her as a put-upon teacher would a naïve student. 

Now? Now he looked at her as if he gazed upon a never-before-seen wonder from a far-off world. 

“Together?” he asked, his dark green eyes iridescent in the soft glow of the seeds. 

She nodded but before he could react she was kneeling before him and placing a seed upon his lips. 

“Let me,” she whispered, her eyes shining knowingly as his lips parted under her gentle touch. He sucked the seed off of her finger, the move so sensual and daring, she almost melted before him. She was trembling, the dark curls of her hair quivering as his fingers stroked up her arm to cup her face. 

“Let me,” he smiled as he repeated her words, his low voice husky as he placed a seed on her waiting tongue. Desire ripped through him as her eyes fluttered closed and she gasped in pleasure as the seed’s energy burst within her mouth. 

“Ahh,” she groaned. “That is good.” 

It was very good, he thought as her eyes, bright with the transformation on-going within her body, opened to gaze heatedly at him. She held up a seed before him, and he opened his mouth to take it from her. As it’s hot weight settled on his tongue his back arched; he had never experienced the Apple in such a way, even as a young prince of Asgard. 

Never had such desire filled him. 

Never had such love touched the experience. 

Suddenly her hands were on him, smoothing up the hard planes of his chest and he shivered. “Eira,” he ground out as she pressed him back upon the cushions. “Eira your last seed goes uneaten as you tempt me.”  
Her throaty chuckle washed over him, causing the fine hairs on his arms to stand upright. “Then feed me, Loki.” 

Her gray eyes, once timid were now daring and he groaned as her legs straddled his hips. “Temptress,” he muttered. Holding up a seed he set it between his teeth and glared at her, a challenge in his eyes. 

Her winged brow arched and she smoothed her hands up his chest to bury within the now lush black curls of his hair. “Temptress,” she whispered as she lowered her lips to his. The hot white energy of the seed jolted through them both as her lips touched his and he almost did not surrender the seed to her. But then her hands tightened in his hair and her hips rocked against his and he groaned as he hardened at her touch. 

“Take it then,” he whispered against her lips. And she did. Her dark eyelashes broke like a wave upon her pale cheeks as her teeth crunched upon the seed and his desire grew as he watched her body deepen ever further. Gone was the girl. 

A goddess knelt upon him now. 

White hot energy flowed through her and every nerve within her body tingled; never had she felt so alive. Never had she felt so whole. 

Was this what immortality felt like all of the time?

Was this what it felt like to be a goddess? 

Was this what it felt like to lay with a god?

Deep shudders rocked her now supple body as his hands smoothed down her figure. She had thought him skilled the night he took her, but this? This was like nothing she had ever experienced. 

“Ahh,” she groaned as his hard length pressed between her thighs. “This is good.” 

Loki found he agreed. 

** 

Far away, in the dark shadows of the Observatory, Eir felt the lovers’ under her guard change and her lips lifted in a small smile. 

Finally, it had begun. They were now firmly upon the path she had set for them. 

“Why do you smile so, little sister?” 

She turned at Heimdall’s words and she smiled. “Oh, my brother, for once I believe some good will come out of Asgard.” 

“Ahh,” he murmured, his eyes glowing from under the shadow of his great horned helm. “Then that is good.” 

“Yes,” she murmured as she cast her mind’s eye once more upon Odin’s devious prison. “Yes it is good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late posting. I've been caught up in school (midterm woes) and just haven't had the time or energy to devote to the stories I'm currently working on. But tonight I finally found some time so here's 7 1/2 pages of feels! 
> 
> Thanks for bearing with me!
> 
> -M


	10. Of Language Lessons, Goddesses in Disguise and a Reunion

The days following Eir’s departure and their consumption of the Golden Apple were some of the most beautiful times Eira had ever experienced. Her body flourished under the joint care of the Apple and Loki; she had been lovely as a child, but now as a woman she shone. Loki found his eyes following her as she moved around the center of the labyrinth and for once in his long incarceration he felt peace. 

Never had he thought to find solace in another’s presence; he had spent his adulthood thinking he could never be loved, never be cared for, due to his frost giant nature. But Eira was different. She had come after his time, after his bitter-betrayal; while she and her peers had learned of his deeds, they had not experienced them first-hand. Thus, they were but stories. 

It was naïve of them, yes, but Loki found himself thanking his brother for keeping it so. Otherwise, she would never trust him. 

“You must learn the Midgardian tongue,” he murmured in her ear on the fifth morning after Eir’s departure. They were lying in the pool, the warm waters washing the aches and stains of their recent love-making away. Eira was cradled in his arms, her head pillowed on his chest, and she was nearly asleep, safe as he held her. 

“Mmm?” she hummed sleepily. “Why?” 

His soft laugh vibrated through his chest and her lips lifted in a tiny smile at the sound; he had changed since she had landed in the maze, transformed into a more gentle version of the man she had first known. She wondered if he had been this way in his youth, before Odin had cast him out. 

“It never hurts to learn, princess,” he whispered against her hair. His fingers stroked burning patterns on her skin and she stirred as slow desire once more grew within her core. 

“Loki,” she muttered in weak protest as his stroking firmed. “This is not helping me learn the Midgardian tongue!”

Then he spoke and she jumped at the foreign word he used; she pulled away from him, planting herself firmly on the ledge under her feet and raised questioning eyes to his. “What did you say?” she asked, her gray eyes wide at his mischievous grin. 

He spoke again, this time pairing the foreign word with a stroking of her nose. “Repeat after me,” he muttered, once more in their mother-tongue. Then the foreign word, paired with the stroking of her nose. 

“Nus,” she said, the word thick and garbled in her mouth. He chuckled and placed a kiss on the tip of the extremity, saying in what she suspected was a Midgardian dialect, “Nose.” 

“Nose?” she asked, the word a little less garbled and he kissed her again. She laughed in excitement and repeated, “Nose!” a few more times which made him smile in pleasure. 

“Very good,” he murmured. And then he stroked her arm and pulled her hand out of the water. She shivered as the chill air of the chamber washed over her skin and watched in attentive interest as he spread her fingers. Glancing at her with a small smile on his lips, he began tapping each digit; with each tap he said a word and she listened closely, trying to capture the accent in her mind. 

He waited for her, his eyes hooded as she frowned and mouthed the words he’d uttered; when he was sure she had an understanding of his words he placed a tender kiss on her index finger and raised his eyes to hers, silently telling her to continue.

“One?” she said softly, a frown of concentration on her brow. He nodded and sucked the digit delicately. She gasped but before she could act further his lips were kissing the wrinkled skin of her middle finger and again that waiting glance. “Two,” she said carefully, the phonetics of the word difficult for her accent. He waited, his lips resting lightly on her finger and she realized he wanted her to repeat the word. “Two,” she said more firmly and his chest rumbled with laughter as the tip of her finger vanished within his mouth. Her eyes squeezed closed at the gentle nipping of his teeth on the oversensitive skin and she whispered his name brokenly. But he did not respond, simply moved on to the next digits. 

By the time they had gotten to the number ten, she was quivering in his arms, her fingers burning against his chest and he was hard. “Enough,” he ground out as he swept her in his arms and rested her buttocks on the shelf he had previously occupied. She gasped as his hands slid up her legs; unbidden she spread her thighs and he smiled fiercely at the wanton way her hips bucked under his fingers. 

“So eager,” he murmured in the Midgardian tongue. “What would your father think if he saw you spread thus, princess?”

She rocked under his touch, the words foreign to her; even if he had spoken in their native tongue, she doubted if she would have understood what he said. 

As he slid his fingers (one, two, three) deep amongst her folds, she cried his name and he chuckled. His stroking increased as her hips slid deeper into his touch; he took a step closer to her as her body readied under his touch and her eyes flashed open to gaze at him. “Please,” she whispered in the dialect he sought to teach her. Her accented voice washed over him and he smiled fiercely as he slid himself deep within her core. 

“Of course, princess,” he murmured in like tongue. 

She sighed as her legs wrapped around her waist and she buried her head in his neck as he began his slow thrusts. “Loki,” she whispered over and over, her eyelids fluttering with each stroke of sensation he caused deep in her core. “Please.”  
He gave her all she desired. And more. 

**

Eir’s breath was ragged as she threw herself into the dim interior of the Observatory; she fell to her knees before the Guardian and gasped, “I have been found out brother. Send me to my charges ere I fail in my task.” 

Heimdall’s far-seeing golden eyes were wide as he helped the wounded woman stand. “What has befallen you, sister?” he asked, his deep voice like a balm to her ringing ears.

She swayed in his arms and his heart fell when her hands emerged bloodied from her cloak. “You have been wounded,” he said, his voice agonized. 

She nodded as he gathered her in his arms and she whispered, “The All Father saw through my disguise and acted outright. His brother aided as well.” 

Heimdall’s chest rumbled under her fingers as he growled ominously. “Fools! They were ever the blindest of Odin’s sons.” His golden eyes settled on her and he scowled. “Heal yourself Eir,” he commanded. She shook her head. 

“Nay, brother. My time has come…” Her voice trailed away at the sound of horse’s hooves on the Bifrost and her bloodstained fingers tightened his cloak. “Send me to Loki,” she hissed. “It is too late for me, but I may yet warn my cousin that she has been found.”

Heimdall’s eyes narrowed at the woman in his arms but when he saw her jaw set stubbornly, he nodded. “Get to the portal,” he murmured as he set her carefully upon the floor. He watched in concern as she swayed and then righted herself and made her painful way to the dark portal waiting for the Guardian. 

“Luck speed you sister,” Heimdall murmured as he slid his greatsword within the portal’s sheath. Her soft laugh was lost in the crackle of lightning as the Observatory began its slow spin. Her eyes closed as she felt the familiar cold hands of Loki’s prison grip her and she winged a prayer to her lover on Midgard that he would forgive her for not returning to him. 

Pain gripped her as she was yanked cruelly from the shores of Asgard and cast through space towards the shadowed corner Odin had made for the imprisonment of his adopted son. The last she heard was the All Father’s bellow as he realized his prize was lost. She prayed that she would arrive in time to warn her cousin and her lover of the danger they were in. 

She suffered no illusions as to how long Heimdall would be able to keep Thor and his brother at bay. 

She gritted her teeth as she plummeted towards the entrance of the Völundarhús; as she landed delicately upon the aged granite of the maze’s floor, she cast her senses out and sought the lover’s she protected. 

Despite the pain gripping her and the slow trickle of blood that slid down her belly, her lips lifted in a small smile as she found them in the center of the maze; she gathered the last of her magic about her and transferred herself to the chamber they resided in. There was little time and she could not risk wasting it by walking through the twists. 

Her sudden arrival to the center of the maze was met with a stunned gasp from her young cousin and a vile curse from her lover. Loki caught Eir in his arms as the strength of her legs deserted her and she sagged limply in his arms. 

“We have been found out, Loki,” she whispered brokenly as her vision spun. “They come for you.” 

And then she crumpled in a dead faint upon the floor of center of the maze. 

**

He had been teaching Eira how to dance; while the princess was well versed in the dances of her people, she was blissfully unaware of the intimacy of the mortal dances upon Midgard. When he had found this out, Loki’s lips had lifted in a feral smile and he had gathered her, protesting, in his arms. 

“Ah, child,” he whispered as he pulled her tightly against his chest. “While the mortals are brutes of the highest degrees there are some touching aspects of that Realm.” 

She laughed as he began sweeping her smoothly around the room. “For your apparent disgust with the mortals, you seem to love many aspects of Midgard. Whatever could that mean Loki Laufeyson?” She smiled mischievously as he dipped her. 

Loki only rolled his eyes and instructed her on some complicated steps. It wasn’t until they had made their way around the room four or five times that she realized he had been speaking to her in the Midgardian dialect he had slowly been teaching her. 

She gasped and missed a step which made him chuckle. “You are a fast learner, princess,” he murmured in the Midgardian tongue. 

She stared at him in wonder as he spun her lightly and whispered, “How long have I been speaking this language?” 

He kissed her then, there in the middle of the chamber, and as he broke the kiss, he whispered against her lips, “Three days. Since the pool. We have not spoken our native tongue for three days Eira.” 

She was shocked, her gray eyes lit with pleased excitement. “Three days?!” she gasped and she raised three fingers to press against his lips. “But how?”

He only shook his head and resumed their intimate dance. “You have a propensity for Midgardian past times my lady,” he murmured as he tucked her head into his shoulder. “You truly did not realize you were speaking the mortal’s language?”

She shook her head and laughed softly as his hand smoothed over her back. “No,” she whispered as her eyes drifted closed. “It seemed so natural, us speaking thus. I never noticed the difference.” 

Loki rested his cheek on her head, a small smile on his lips as they spun slowly around the ancient maze. He wished they could continue this way for the rest of time, hidden away in this dark corner of the All Father’s realm. He wondered when his prison had become a haven, when this woman in his arms had transformed his hell into a heaven. 

“Eira you have transformed me,” he whispered against her silken curls. Her hand, the one that wasn’t clasped tightly by his, smoothed over his chest and she murmured softly as his arm tightened around her waist. “Please do not leave me,” he whispered in her ear. 

She glanced at him, her gray eyes dreamy, and she cupped his cheek gently in the palm of her hand. “Never,” she whispered back, so soft he almost didn’t hear. He kissed her again, his lips trailing gently from her cheek to her jaw and finally to her lips and she sighed, surrendering her mouth to his. 

His hands were tight and warm against her skin and as he kissed her she wondered what it would have been like if she had never come to this place. Sweet agony at the thought washed through her and as their tongues danced together she opened her eyes to gaze into his. 

She loved him, she realized, and it was not a petty love borne of childish need. It was a deep, abiding love, borne from the desire to heal, to mend, to fix the wrongs that had been done to each of them. She had been lost to him the moment he saved her from the horrors of the maze. She had been lost to that broken, haunted, wounded, wraith of a man and she had never even realized.

He was kissing her at the hollow of her ear now and her eyes fluttered closed at the gentle nipping of his teeth. “Loki, I-“ she began but at that moment disaster struck their peaceful haven and her words were lost to the wheeling stars above. 

Suddenly the air of the labyrinth rippled and the smell of apples washed over them; they turned to see Eir stagger to her knees upon the threshold of the center chamber. Loki swore as he rushed to her side. “We have been found out, they come for you,” she choked, blood spattering her lips, as Loki caught her and held her. 

“How did this happen?” he whispered in horror as the woman convulsed in his arms. He raised horrified eyes to search for Eira; he found her on the other side of the chamber, rummaging in her pack. He frowned as she pulled a box from her bag and rushed back towards them. 

Eir shook her head weakly as her young cousin fell to her knees at her side. “It is too late, cousin,” she whispered as Eira revealed her wounds. “The All Father and his brother were far stronger than I; their work was far too complete.” 

Eira paled at the sight of the woman’s wounds and raised haunted eyes to her name-sake’s. “My father did this?” she whispered brokenly and Loki’s eyes closed at the pain in her voice. He could see the extent of the woman’s wounds, he knew even Eira would not be able to heal her. 

Eir caught a hold of Eira’s hand and sobbed as cold pain crept over her body. “I slipped, my disguise shifted before the All Father’s eyes; he mistook me for the Enchantress, for Amora and he took action. I forgot how fast Odin’s boys were,” she said with a weak laugh. 

Tears began to slide from Eira’s eyes in the face of her cousin’s agony. “Oh Eir,” she whispered. “I am so sorry for this; you should have stayed on Midgard with your lover. You should not have come to aid us.” 

“No,” whispered Eir brokenly. “No, no. This has always been my task; it is my legacy. I did not wish to see another of my sisters chained or shunned by the men of our family. Do not regret my actions, child, please, for I do not.” 

Eira brought her cousin’s fingers to her forehead and she sobbed, “But you have sacrificed your love for mine. That is not fair.” 

Loki, silently gazing at the women before him stiffened as he felt the air of the maze tighten around them. Eir glanced at him, the dark understanding in her eyes the mirror of his own and she whispered, “They have come for you.” 

He nodded grimly and stood. “Thank you for warning us, cousin,” he whispered as he kissed his fingers and placed them on her pale forehead. Her eyes fluttered closed at the honorable farewell and as he readied to confront his brothers he said, “May you find peace in Valhalla.” 

Eira watched him go, horror freezing her joints and she turned terrified eyes back to her cousin. “Who is here Eir?” she whispered. 

The goddess smiled her macabre smile and raised a bloodied finger to her cousin’s forehead, saying, “My path has come to an end, Eira. But yours continues. Go, stand at your lover’s side and fight for him. It is all those who follow my legacy can ever do.” She smiled as her hand fell from the girl’s forehead leaving a red spot of blood. Unbeknownst to Eira it began to glow as Eir’s vision faded. 

“What do I do, Eir?” whispered Eira as the woman beside her slowly stilled. 

“Love,” choked Eir. “That is all any of us can do. Love and hope that that will be enough. Now go!” 

With the last of her strength she pushed Eira from her and watched as the girl staggered away from her. She smiled in the sudden chill of the maze and whispered, “Send me home Heimdall.” 

There was a flash of light and the air within the maze tightened dangerously. When the light returned to its normal golden glow, the floor Eir had reclined upon was vacant, the only sign that a goddess had died there, an ivory apple bud. If anyone had stood upon the spot, they would have smelled the faint brine of a sea and the musky scent of wildflowers. 

But none remained to witness her passing and as the shadows lengthened the apple blossom wilted and turned to ash as was customary at the passing of one blessed by Glasir. 

**

Loki realized he and Eira were doomed the moment he turned the final twist of his labyrinthine prison and came face-to-face with his brother’s. Both Thor and Balder stood before him in their full battle regalia. Thor’s silver helm glinted in the dim light and for a moment the silver wings arching from his temple shone like blades. Balder’s bronze horned and winged helm shone just as cruelly as his head turned at the sound of Loki’s approach. 

“Brothers,” Loki said calmly, his green eyes hooded so they would not see his unease. “Greetings. What brings you here?” 

Balder snarled and would have launched himself at the frost giant traitor standing before them, but Thor threw out his arm, bearing the mighty mass of Mjolnir, stopping Balder before he could act. 

“Greetings Loki,” thundered the All Father, his voice as deep and melodious as it had been in their youth. “What mischief have you wrought this day?”

“Mischief?” Loki said, mock curiosity in his voice as he shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “What mischief? Surely you know that this clever prison holds me too tightly! I have but simply wallowed these past weeks reflecting on the sins of my youth.” 

His green eyes sparked dangerously as Balder scoffed from behind their eldest brother’s arm. “He lies Thor, you can see it in the smirk on his lips.” 

Thor gazed at his youngest brother thoughtfully; Loki had not changed overmuch. He was a little more aged perhaps, but then they all were. “Where is the woman we chased, Loki?” he questioned, his voice low in the silence. 

His brother’s brow arched and he paced a few steps before them. “Woman? What woman do you speak of?” Before either god could respond his slender fingers snapped and he pointed at Balder. “Ah! Your daughter! Was it your daughter you chased?” 

Thor shook his head and lowered his arm; he kept watch on Balder though, lest the younger man sought to attack Loki once more. “Nay,” he murmured. “It was Amora we hunted. Heimdall aided her escape and we followed her to this maze.” 

His shadowed blue eyes darted around the maze and Loki held his arms out in welcome. “By all means,” he said false cheer in his voice. “Search the twists for Amora. If indeed the Enchantress came to my noble prison then surely she is within. You have an hour before the shadows lengthen and the beasts our father charged with my guard stir.” His green eyes sparked in challenge as both men shifted in discomfort. 

He knew they would not wish to tarry in this hell once the shadows began to lengthen. Heimdall would not rescue them, as per Odin’s orders. 

“You are hiding something Loki,” Thor said, his eyes narrowing at the conflicting emotions he sensed rolling off of the other man like a scent. “What have you done?”

Before Loki could respond someone threw herself around the corner and gasped, “Father!” 

Loki’s eyes closed in horror as Eira halted at his side. “What have I done, brother?” he murmured wryly to himself as Balder roared in anger as his daughter froze before him. 

Thor could not restrain his usually stoic brother any longer; Balder lunged toward Eira, his hands seeking to reclaim his wayward progeny but the moment he approached her she ducked behind Loki. 

“Stay away from me!” she shrieked, terror in her voice. 

All three men froze at this blatant act of rebellion and Loki felt his heart begin its rapid hammering at the murder in Balder’s eyes. “Easy brother,” he said as he slowly raised his hand. 

“Easy?!” snarled Balder. “What have you done to her?!” His grabbed a fistful of Loki’s shirt and viciously yanked him forward, ignoring Eira’s gasp. “You lied to me, that day I came to you with your blasted Apple! She was here, even then!” His light blue eyes were as cold and hateful as their father’s had been on Loki’s sentencing and he shivered at the hatred in his brother’s voice.

“Aye,” he murmured, his voice cold. “She was here, sleeping in my chambers. I thought to relinquish her to your care but after hearing your words found I could not also betray her trust.” 

Balder’s eyes widened at the man’s words and before any could react, he had backhanded Loki across the face, shattering his nose. 

“Loki!” Eira screamed in horror as Loki was thrown several feet from them. She threw herself at his side and tore a swatch of material from her shirt to blot his nose. 

Balder did not give her the chance to aid his fallen brother though; instead he bent and yanked her viciously upright, nearly dislocating her shoulder. “What do you, Eira?!” he hissed, disbelief and horror in his eyes. “He is evil incarnate! Why do you seek to aid him?” 

She sobbed at his cruel touch and shook her head, “No, father,” she whispered brokenly as tears stood in her eyes. “No he is not evil. He has only sought to aid me, to protect me.” She glanced at her lover and then turned challenging eyes to her father. “Unlike you.” 

Balder stared at her, shocked at her rebellion and then cast her from him. “Enough,” he growled. Casting his eyes heavenward he called to the Guardian. “Heimdall send us back.” 

Thor had been quiet, his hand loose on his hammer’s staff and when his sobbing niece landed at his feet he bent to aid her in rising. “Are you hurt?” he murmured as she trembled in his arms. She shook her head, her eyes seeking Loki where he lay struggling to rise. 

She paled when she watched Balder turn back to him. Turning to Thor she gasped, “Please Uncle! If you love me, do not let my father harm Loki!” 

Thor frowned at his young niece but before he could respond there was a tightening once more of the labyrinth’s air and the white-hot lightning of the Bifrost rippled around them. 

“Loki!” she screamed, her body straining in her uncle’s arms as her eyes were blinded to her lover’s where-abouts. “Oh Eir,” she groaned as cold hands tightened around her throat. “I cannot lose him.” 

Thor heard her words and wondered at the pain in her voice. When they arrived suddenly upon the threshold of the Observatory he turned to question her but froze at his brother’s furious roar. 

He turned, Mjolnir raised, to see Loki staggering upright, his nose already healed from its cruel breaking. “Loki, what do you here?” he bellowed. Balder had laid hand to him, halting the younger man’s retreat lest he think to run. They needn’t have worried. Loki had eyes only for an emotionally distraught Eira who was still being held by his golden brother. 

“Eira,” he whispered as Balder forced him to his knees. “I am sorry.” 

She groaned in horror at the resignation in her eyes and Thor struggled to retain his grip on her slender body. “Please, do not do what you think you must!” she said in the Midgardian tongue he had taught her. Thor jumped at the language use and he cast wondering eyes between the two speaking. “Please, if you love me. I have already lost one that I love today…” Her voice trailed off in a sob as Loki shook his head. 

Balder drew his sword but before Thor or his niece could react a voice roared from the center of the Observatory. 

“Enough! Cease this madness!” 

All turned to see the Guardian walking slowly down the stairs leading to the portal’s sheath; he held his greatsword in a two-handed grip and Thor stiffened at the anger in Heimdall’s golden eyes. 

“Brother,” he said carefully. “Brother, what do you?” 

Heimdall turned his furious golden eyes upon the All Father and growled, “You know not what you have done this day Thor. You have committed the most heinous act, you and Balder.” 

Then before either could respond, he exited the Bifrost. After a moment’s hesitation, Thor, still bearing Eira, and Balder, his fist entangled in Loki’s hair, followed the Guardian. 

Heimdall’s glare was thunderous as they stopped before him and as they exited the Observatory he closed the doors to them. Thor stilled and turned questioning eyes to the Guardian. “Heimdall-“

“Eira, who came to you in the labyrinth?” Heimdall asked, his deep voice gentle as he turned his gaze upon the girl being held by her uncle. 

She pulled herself from Thor’s grasp and turned terrified eyes Loki’s way. He nodded minutely against the vicious grip Balder had on his hair, his green eyes promising her he was well despite her father’s cruelty. She then turned back to Heimdall and said with straight spine and clear voice, “Our cousin Eir came to us. That was the woman my father killed this day.” 

Her cold voice echoed ominously against the rainbow bridge and Thor’s fingers tightened audibly upon Mjolnir’s staff. “Eir?” he asked, his voice soft in disbelief. “The cursed sister of Odin?” 

She glanced his way and nodded. “Aye. The sister who cursed Bor’s line and cast herself into the Void in hopes of finding her lover. She found him, it seems and then she came to my aid.” 

“Your aid?” Balder sputtered in disbelief. “Why would you need her aid?”

She laughed scornfully and turned hate filled eyes to her father. “Is it no wonder? Our stories are very similar father.” 

“But, you had no lover. You were betrothed to Vol-“ he froze as her eyes darted to where Loki knelt at his feet and he laughed cruelly. “Oh I see. You fancy yourself in love with the greatest traitor our Realm has ever seen.” His fingers tightened dangerously in Loki’s hair, who winced, causing Eira to stiffen. 

“Father,” she said as she fell to her knees before him, her hands entangling themselves in his cloak. “Please, hear me. Hear my words as you never did when I abided under your care.” 

Balder shook his head, though, disgust and distrust in his eyes. “You have betrayed us Eira,” he snarled and she flinched as she realized he was beyond reason. “You have scorned our orders and betrayed us for the sake of this scum!”

He raised his sword but before any could react, Loki tore himself from his clutch and rushed to the edge of the Bifrost. Thor groaned as he recognized his brother’s actions and Eira shuddered as his fingers brushed her cheek in farewell. His green eyes met hers as he balanced precariously upon the edge of the bridge and he whispered, “Seek me, my love.” 

Then he turned to his brothers and said with agonized pain in his voice, “Forgive me my brothers. I see what pain my actions have caused.” 

And as Thor bellowed his name, memories overwhelming him of a day long past when Loki had stood thus, he flung himself into the Void. 

The last thing he heard was Eira screaming his name. 

**

The days following Eira’s return to Asgard were tense; she refused to see any but her grandmother and uncle and when her parents came to her she would simply bar the door to their entrance. She wandered the halls of her uncle’s palace like a wraith, cloaked and hooded so none might see the paleness of her cheeks or the hollow pain of her eyes. 

She knew not what to do, how to find her lover and she wished desperately that Eir was at her side to aid her. 

As it was she spent more time in the Hall of Records than she had ever as a youth. She read Eir’s journal cover to cover under the warm candle’s the records keepers lit for her but nothing her ancestor wrote provided her with solace. 

Instead she turned to the few Midgardian tomes that resided in the shadowed corners of the Hall; her fingers trailed over their spines as she pulled the three books from the shelf. A sad smile touched her lips each time she opened a book and more-often than not her tears kept her from interpreting the words. 

It was no matter though. He was gone from her; how could she enjoy the Midgardian treasures when he was no longer there to laugh at her mistakes and quietly correct her words? 

One night, nearly a month after disaster had broken their solace, her grandmother found her in the Hall. Eira was curled in the deep window seat over-looking the Bifrost and the deep darkness of the Void, a slender Midgardian tome of verse clasped in her fingers. Her dark hair tumbled haphazardly around her shoulders and a small smile touched her lips as she gazed out of the window in a slight daze.

“Loki always loved the mortal’s Tennyson’s words,” Frigga said quietly as she sat beside her stunningly lovely granddaughter. 

Eira jumped at her grandmother’s appearance and strove to hide the book she had been perusing from the woman’s eyes. Frigga smiled and stopped her though and Eira relaxed slightly. “Hello Grandmother,” she murmured. “What may I do for you?” 

Frigga smiled sadly at the sorrow in her granddaughter’s eyes and she raised her hand to stroke the young woman’s cheek. “Ah my love, you should not wallow thus. It does not suit one such as you.” 

Eira’s lips lifted in a bitter smile and she turned to gaze once more upon the Void. “Would you think badly of me if I said I miss him?” Her voice was quiet and Frigga nearly missed her words. 

“Oh child, no,” she said as she reached out to cup the girl’s cheeks. “We all have mourned for Loki; there is no harm in your mourning as well. Besides…” she paused, her faded blue eyes curious as she gazed at her granddaughter. “I suspect he meant far more to you than you have told us.” 

Eira raised her eyes to her grandmother and realized the woman knew of what had befallen her in the maze. “Does that make me a traitor?” she whispered, her father’s words echoing in her mind. 

Frigga was quiet, her eyes thoughtful as she gazed upon the rainbow bridge twisting below them. “No,” she murmured, a small smile on her lips. “That does not make you a traitor child.” She glanced at her granddaughter and ran her fingers once more down the woman’s cheek. “It means you have the courage to love despite the things others tell you.” 

Eira smiled, the ghost of her once happy smile and she leaned over to plant a tender kiss on her grandmother’s cheek. “Thank you, grandmother,” she whispered. She rose from her seat then and murmured, “I am weary, I must to bed. Good night grandmother.” She curtsied to the Queen mother who smiled gently upon her granddaughter and then she left the Hall of Records, the book of verse still clasped tightly to her breast. 

Much like the day she had run from her uncle’s palace in hopes of escaping the vile marriage her parents sought to force upon her, she rushed silently through the now dark halls, the deep hood of her grey cloak shielding her features so none would know her. 

Her bare feet made no sound on the cool marble of the palace’s floor and as she ducked from pillar to pillar she whispered prayer after prayer to Eir. “Eir, goddess, hear me. Let me escape this Realm once-and-for-all. Aid me in my task sweet lady. Hear me…”

When she reached the garden stairs she breathed a sigh of relief. She could make the Bifrost this way without running across the guards. When she slid out of the heavy gate that lead from the palace gardens her feet tingled as she eased onto the bridge. A small smile touched her lips as the rainbow lights swirled around her feet and she could not resist giving a little hop; ripples spread from her toes and the soft bells of the bridge chimed. 

Then she ran, a small figure on the mighty breadth of the rainbow bridge of Asgard. 

Her cloak streamed behind her and her hair tumbled down her back as her hood slipped. A small laugh slid from her lips as she ran and she knew, deep down in her heart, that this was the right path she took. 

Why had she not done this sooner? 

After all, Eir had done it so long ago. And Loki had done it twice. 

Jump into the Void, whispered the voice in the back of her head and she shivered. Jump, Eira, see where the stars lead you.

“Yes,” she murmured as she arrived at the point of the bridge Loki had plunged from. “I will.” 

She stilled, her breast heaving as she balanced upon the crystalline edge of the bridge; her eyes swam with the stars of the Void and she shivered as spice scented winds whipped her cloak around her and teased through her hair. Where would she land if she jumped? On Midgard? Or some other Realm?

Taking a deep breath as her toes curled amongst the rainbow lights she whispered a Midgardian prayer and closed her eyes. Just as she was about to leap, though, a mighty arm caught her around the waist and hauled her back from the edge. 

She gasped as a voice warm with laughter said in her ear, “The Void is not for you, little one.” 

Her assailant set her down, a safe distance from the edge and she glared balefully at her uncle and Heimdall, who kept his arm tight around her. Thor’s eyes sparkled under his helm and The Guardian’s lips were lifted in a small smile. 

“Please, let me go,” she said wearily, tears pricking her eyes. “Would it not be easier for us if I just leapt now?” She gestured weakly to the wheeling stars around them and Thor’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. 

“I forgot how impatient our children can be in their youth,” he muttered to Heimdall as he swung out of his horse’s saddle. Eira sighed as Heimdall led her towards the Observatory and she glanced over her shoulder to the Void.

“What do you need of me Uncle?” she murmured as they entered the Observatory. Heimdall released her so he could take his post near the plinth. She eyed him thoughtfully, curious as to why he took his post now. Was Thor leaving Asgard?

Thor caught her hand and turned her towards him. “Eira,” he murmured as bent his head towards her. “I understand the pain you have felt in the month since you were brought from the labyrinth.” She flinched, turning her eyes from his, but he caught her chin and forced her to face him. “While I do not condone this, I understand your love for Loki. I saw the way you two acted towards each other. I could see the love my brother bore for you.” He sighed and led her towards the dark portal hole. “Loki thought he was unable to love, but that night upon this bridge I think he did love. I believe you were his redemption Eira.” He smiled as she turned surprised eyes to his and he chucked her under the chin. “You were never meant to be saddled to hefty warriors, princess. You are very like Eir, if the legends are true.” 

His gentle blue eyes shone from under his helm and she shivered. “You know where Loki resides, don’t you All Father?” she said softly, her body beginning to tremble with excitement. 

Thor glanced over his shoulder to the Guardian, who nodded, and he smiled as he turned back to his niece. “Aye, we suspect we have found him. He is upon Midgard, but it is a time beyond that which he first fell upon. We know not his exact location, nor the exact time of which he fell, but if you wish it, we can send you as near as possible.” 

Eira stared at him, shocked at the meaning of his words. “You will let me go?” she whispered brokenly and he clasped her hand. “You will let me go to him?” 

He nodded and she sobbed as she threw her arms around him. Thor smiled as he wrapped his arms tightly around the slender form of his niece and he murmured in her hair, “Care for him well Eira, when you find him. And tell him…tell him he is loved.” 

She nodded, tears sliding down her cheeks as he released her. “Thank you,” she whispered as he pressed his lips to her knuckles. 

“Luck speed you,” Heimdall murmured as he slid his sword into the portal’s sheath. 

Thor smiled as he said in the Midgardian dialect she loved, “Good luck hunting, Eira Baldrdottr.” 

Her soft laugh rippled over them as lightning crackled and Thor stepped back as her form began to glow and writhe in the Bifrost’s curtain of energy. 

With a mighty wind, she was gone. 

Thor stood before the portal for a long moment and then turned to the Guardian. “Where is she?” he asked, his blue eyes worried. 

Heimdall’s lips lifted in an enigmatic smile and he said in his prophecy ridden words, “Exactly where she is needed to be, All Father.

Exactly where she is needed to be.”


	11. The Solitary Shore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final installation of the Loki and Eira's saga.

As Ariadne came from the labyrinth, ran from monster left with its secrets, Theseus son of Aegeus sailed into Crete. And as the children of Athens came before her, Theseus the hero stood defiant. As he saw her, as she saw him, the threads of their lives crossed. Tangled, knotted them together. - The Storyteller (Theseus and the Minotaur)

Today we may say aloud before an awe-struck world: We are still masters of our fate. We are still captain of our souls. - Prime Minister Winston Churchill

**

Village of Ikol, Wales, United Kingdom  
April, 1945

Doctor Alun Maddox, the head of the medical ward of Village of Ikol Hospital, glanced up at the sound of his office door opening; he frowned as a stunningly beautiful young woman dressed in a dark trench coat and plain hat stepped into his office. She was accompanied by his secretary, a kind faced young man named Iwan and Maddox sighed. Another grieving widow no doubt, set on finding out why her husband died. 

“What is it Iwan? I will be going on my rounds in ten minutes,” Maddox said as he turned back to the letter he was writing to the home office in London. 

“You have an appointment with this young woman,” his secretary said as he flushed and pulled the strange girl forward. Maddox looked up in surprise and studied her thoughtfully, taking in her perfectly curled hair, quiet gray eyes and neatly folded gloved fingers. 

“Oh? And who are you?” he glanced at his calendar. He was sure he hadn’t seen an appointment marked in at this time. He jumped slightly when he saw it there, marked clearly in Iwan’s neat handwriting. “Transfer from London Office due to Arrive today,” it read and he sighed. He’d forgotten about this.

The girl cleared her throat, shot an anxious glance at the secretary, who winked in encouragement. “I am Ellinor Balstad, sir, the nurse from London,” she said, her voice slightly accented. 

Maddox’s eyebrows rose as he peered at her over his pince nez and he made a non-committal noise in the back of his throat. 

She continued, her pale cheeks pinking slightly, “I was transferred to aid in the therapeutic recovery of the soldiers returning to Wales.” She straightened as the doctor sucked his teeth thoughtfully. “You do require my assistance still, sir? That is correct?” she asked, her accent only slightly thicker as her nerves got the better of her. 

The doctor suddenly rose and approached her, his hands behind his back. “You’re very young,” he muttered as he stopped in front of her. “I was under the impression that the specialist they were sending me would have extensive experience in this matter. You look to be barely thirty. What do you know about helping the veterans of this hellish war on the road to recovery?” 

The girl, his new nurse, apparently, tensed and her previously mild gray eyes flashed dangerously at him. “I am far older than I look Dr. Maddox,” she said coldly and his lips twitched in the sight of her fury. Perhaps she would do well here after all. “I have worked in the wards of St. Bartholomew’s for the past five years, honing my skills in healing. I have a knack for it, it would seem, since all of my patients recovered quickly and thoroughly.” Her eyes were as dark as the Welsh sky now, her pale cheeks even whiter in the face of his apparent disregard. “I was the first choice of Dr. Smithe for this hospital and if you believe me unfit for this post then you may write him on the matter.” 

Her quiet voice washed over both men and Maddox’s lips twitched. “Right. Well, since beggars can’t be choosers in this time of War,” he said as he perched on his desk. “Let me welcome you to Ikol. Have you been shown where you are staying for the duration of your post?” He leaned over and glanced at her file which the home office had seen fit to send him. “Ah, you’re in Sigyn’s Cottage. What a lovely home.” He smiled as she relaxed slightly, her eyes not as fierce now. 

“Yes, it is a pretty little house,” she murmured, a small smile on her lips. “We will enjoy our stay there I believe.” 

“Excellent,” Maddox said as he clapped his hands and once more stood. “Well, since I expect you are very tired after your long journey and it is nearly dinner time, why don’t you wander the grounds of the hospital and introduce yourself to the nurses and doctors you will be working with.” He placed his hand on the small of her back and led her to the door. He did not see the grimace that flashed across her face and continued, “You should go see our labyrinth! Our lord Ottin bestowed it upon us before he joined the war effort. It is quite the extraordinary ven-“

He stopped speaking at the horrified gasp of the young woman beside him and he turned to her, bewildered as she swayed dangerously in her court heels. 

“Labyrinth?” she choked out, her eyes wide and her cheeks nearly grey. 

Maddox frowned and exchanged a glance with his secretary. “Why yes,” he said slowly. “We have a meditative labyrinth upon our grounds; it is for the patients to wander and gather their thoughts in the peaceful silence.” 

Suddenly her fist was in his tie and she hissed, “Where is it?” Her eyes were wild and Maddox shivered as white-hot energy poured from her clutch. Inexplicably, the mild young woman who had first entered his office was gone; instead a veritable Amazon stood before him. Her curled hair fairly shone in the lamplight and her eyes were like molten silver as she glared at him. “Where is it?!” she hissed once more and he shivered as the smell of spicy apples rolled off of her. 

“B-b-behind the hospital, in the gardens,” he choked out, terrified at her fierceness. 

Then she was gone; both men stared at each other as she rushed from the room and they shivered as they realized they could not hear the sound of her heels on the black-and-white tiled floors of the hospital. 

“What was that Iwan?” Maddox asked as he poked his head out of the office. 

“B-b-banshee?” choked the young secretary, just as shocked as his boss at the sudden transformation of their newest nurse.

The two stared at each other in wonder and Maddox laughed breathlessly as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Trust the home office to send us a banshee when all we needed was a quiet girl with a gentle touch.” 

They both laughed, their voices only slightly shaky in the tense silence and then they went their separate ways, each vowing to himself that they would keep an eye on Nurse Balstad. 

**

She was not aware of her transference until she arrived, far quicker than possible, at the entrance of the Ikol Village Hospital’s labyrinth. She was panting from the sudden use of magic, her chest heaving as she took in the tall hedges bounding the maze. The Welsh air was still, the only sound the sea gulls screaming as they wheeled overhead.

She stretched out her fingers to stroke the sign mounted on the wrought iron gate of the maze and she sobbed brokenly at the Norse runes. Trust him to write a message in old Norse…

As her fingers bumped over the copper words she murmured in her mother-tongue, “The Völundarhús, Eir’s Path, is a maze for learning and healing. Walk her twists as you listen for the gods’ whispers but remember, the fruition of healing is only found within the center of the labyrinth.” 

The center of the labyrinth…

“Oh sweet Eir, let it be true,” she whispered as she pushed open the gate barring her path. The hinges were silent, despite the elements and she shivered as she stepped forth into his maze. She shivered as memories of another labyrinth washed over her and she stretched out a hand to brush the hedges towering to either side of her. The green life energy of the plant washed over her fingers and her eyes fluttered closed in relief. This was a living maze, not made of dead stone. 

This twisted labyrinth was for healing, not bitter imprisonment. 

Her gray eyes opened as she tipped her head back and took a deep breath of the still air of the maze; gone was the smell of brine. Instead the spicy smell of the golden Apples of her home flitted through the air. She smiled softly at that and her tongue darted out to moisten her lips as white-hot energy washed over her. 

A woman’s soft laugh tickled her ear and she ran her fingers once more through the green leaves of the hedge. “Hello cousin,” she whispered as the scent of apples faded. Tears pricked her eyes as she slid out of her heels. 

This was hallowed ground, Eir’s ground, his ground. She would walk the twists as reverently as possible. 

At first she walked slowly, stoically, and then a familiar dark presence began to grow in the back of her mind. Her impatience grew as she imagined his dark green eyes turning once more her way and suddenly she was running, her long legs ripping through the slit of her skirt. Her curled hair, the very height of fashion, slipped their pins, her hat bounced unbecomingly upon her head and her purse had fallen somewhere near the entrance. 

But she did not care. She only thought of finding the center, of finding solace once more in the center of a dark labyrinth. “Please Eir,” she whispered brokenly as she turned, turned and turned again. “Please let this be it, please let him be here. Please, cousin, goddess, sister. Please.” 

She had nearly given up hope of finding the center of the maze when she suddenly arrived at a rose bounded arbor. She slid to a halt, her silk stockings tearing in the rough ground, and she closed her eyes. 

What if he was not here? What if she had only chased a ghost once more? How many times had she rushed through the streets of London, of Paris, chasing the memory of his green eyes and sly smile? 

How long had she searched for Loki Laufeyson? 

Too long. 

“You know, the maze is meant for peaceful meandering, not foolish footraces.” 

She nearly crumpled at the sound of his voice; as it was, the only way she stayed upright was by gripping the silken wood of the arbor. She entered the center of the maze slowly, keeping a firm grip on the arbor lest her knees buckle under her trembling weight. 

The maze was silent, a place of peace away from the hustle and bustle of the hospital and the sea. It seemed impossibly ancient and as she took in the pool at the foot of the ancient oak tree spreading its green branches towards the sky, she almost thought she was in a different maze in a world far-and-away. 

Then her eyes found the man who had spoken. His back was turned towards her, so she could not see his face, but his hair fell from under his military cap in familiar waves to the shoulders of his military style greatcoat. It was too long to be considered fashionable in this era but her fingers itched to run through the dark mass of it. She watched as his long fingers stroked the feathers of the ravens at his side; her eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she gazed at the two birds and she wondered at their presence. She wished he would turn so she could gaze upon his face, so she could be assured that this man was who she desired to see once more. 

He spoke again, his voice soft in the silence and her eyes fluttered closed unbidden. “Have you come to meditate?” he asked, not bothering to turn to see who the visitor was. 

She opened her eyes and spoke, the words falling off her tongue in the ancient language they shared. “I was never one to meditate, even as a maid in my uncle’s palace, Lord Ottin.” 

The man sitting in the center of the maze stilled, his fingers ceasing their stroking of the raven’s head at his side. His head turned slightly so she could see his sharp cheekbones and the corner of his eye and she gasped, her hands twining tightly in the arbor as she felt the strength run from her limbs. 

And then he was before her, those fingers she had longed to behold once more, touching her face, stroking her cheeks and cupping the back of her skull. His green eyes, as fierce as they had been during their incarceration gazed at her hungrily and finally he said her name and it was like a prayer falling from his lips. 

“Eira, oh sweet Eira, my princess you are here,” he murmured over and over as his hands buried themselves in her hair. Before she could say anything (and how could she? For her vocal cords had surely been struck by Mjolnir’s mighty lightning at the shock of him being before her!) he was kissing her, fiercely, desperately, his hands running over her body and pressing her tightly to him lest he lose her again.

“Eira,” he whispered as he pressed his face in her curls. “Oh my love I thought I lost you.” 

She was crying, her face pressed to his greatcoat and her lip caught between her teeth so her sobs could be stifled. Her entire body shuddered as he wrapped her in the safety of his arms and she whispered his name brokenly, all of her strength and courage gone. “Loki, oh sweet Eir, Loki…” 

Her knees buckled as one hand wrapped around the back of her head, holding her firmly in place against his steadily beating heart. Together they fell to their knees in the center of the maze and he laughed as he recalled another time they had knelt thus in a labyrinth. “Where have you been?” he whispered hoarsely against her ear, his cheek pressed to hers. “You troublesome girl, did you not know I looked for you?”

Her sobs increased as she lost all control and she cupped his face in her gloved hands. “I looked for you, you mischief maker! I searched this Realm and never did I find you! Where have you been?” She shook his head in her hands, her eyes glowing with unshed tears, which caused him to laugh softly. 

His hands tightened on her waist as he pulled her still closer to his body and he rested his forehead to hers. “I have been on this Realm for five long years,” he murmured. “Ever looking for you, Eira. I knew not if you would find me, knew not if you could find me, but I never ceased looking.” He paused as she sniffled in his arms and he smoothed his fingers through her far-shorter curls. “How long have you walked on Midgard?” 

She laughed brokenly against his neck and her fingers tightened in his jacket. “I have been on this Realm for five years as well,” she said with a sigh. “Five long years.” 

“Ah,” he murmured. “We were under each other’s noses. How…frustrating.” His green eyes sparkled with mischievous humor and she smiled wryly. 

She ran her fingers over the medals on his breast, a small frown appearing on her forehead; he ran a finger over one winged brow and murmured, “My brother said penance could come in unexpected ways.” She raised surprised eyes to his and his lips twitched in a crooked grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You fought?” she whispered, horror making her blood run cold. “You fought in this War?!”

He nodded and ran his fingers once through the curls framing her face. “And you followed your calling as a healer,” he murmured gently. “We all do what we must princess.” 

She shivered at his tender touch and she pressed her fingers to his chest, taking solace in his steadily beating heart. “I could have lost you,” she whispered brokenly. “And I would not have known.” A single tear slid from her eye and he caught it on one slender finger. 

“It takes more than the weapons these mortals so cherish to wound me, Eira,” he said, his voice soft and his eyes haunted. She would be horrified at the scars marring his pale skin. 

They were quiet for several long moments, the only noise in the center of the maze the quarking of the two ravens who eyed them curiously. Loki contented himself with the feel of his lover in his arms; he had longed for this day since casting himself into the Void. Memories of the last time he had seen her, kneeling at his brothers’ feet, begging them to see reason, begging them to believe her love for him, made his heart wrench still. 

“Why, Eira?” he whispered against her hair. “Why did you defend me in the face of your father’s fury?” 

She stiffened, the dark memories of those days on Asgard making her heart race, and then she stood. “It would be best if I showed you,” she murmured, her eyes shadowed. He stared at her, trepidation and distrust showing in his eyes and she smiled in reassurance. “Ah my love,” she whispered as she cupped his chin in her gloved hand. “Trust me. It is no trap.” 

Loki took a deep breath and nodded. She helped him rise, her eyes haunted as he staggered against her. What wounds was he hiding from her? They were quiet as they made their way through the maze, their arms looped. Loki chuckled as they came upon her abandoned shoes and hat and his eyebrow rose as he fiddled with the lady’s fedora. “This world’s style suits you my love,” he murmured as he fixed it to her dark curls. 

Eira snorted delicately. “As it does you, love. Never have I seen a more elegantly styled gentleman in military dress,” she said with a soft laugh. 

He waved his hand and her smile grew as his form wavered; he stood before her in the emerald robes of his Asgardian station and she laughed as he straightened the horned helm resting upon his brow. “Does this suit you more, princess?” he whispered silkily, his dark green eyes lit with mischief. 

She shook her hair out and he shivered as she herself changed before him. Soft blue and white robes draped her voluptuous form and the silver winged helm on her brow caught the weak Welsh sunlight as she turned to face him. “Shall we walk this maze as the gods who designed it, Lord Ottin?” she murmured, her gray eyes alight. 

Loki’s mouth was dry as he took in the woman before him; never had he seen her in her Asgardian ceremonial garb. He found himself wishing he had, wishing he could have seen her in her youth during the ceremonies of state in his brother’s palace. She was stunning, so lovely, his heart ached. Unbidden, his fingers rose to stroke the smooth curves of the wings framing her face and he laughed weakly. “Those blasted wings. I once harassed Thor for his helm, saying they made him look just that more ridiculous.” He paused and lowered his eyes to hers. She gazed at him thoughtfully, her eyes shadowed under the shelf of her helm, and he chuckled as she pursed her lips in displeasure. “I find the wings suit you though, princess. They remind me of Arlor.” 

He sighed then, and his form once more reverted to that of his mortal carriage and he brushed imaginary dust off of the olive green sleeve of his greatcoat. The air rippled around them as she, too, reclaimed her mortal form and they linked arms silently, resuming their exit of the maze. 

When they slipped out of the labyrinth he tipped his hat to the curious doctor standing near the entrance. “Good evening Maddox,” he murmured smoothly, keeping his arm steady so Eira could step into her shoes. “Thank you for sending Nurse Ellinor to me; I feared she would not know where to find me upon her arrival in Ikol.” 

“Lord Ottin,” exclaimed the doctor, shock making his eyes go round as he took in his newest nurse resting upon the arm of the mysterious Lord who had donated the maze to his hospital. “We had not heard that you were returning so soon to the village!” 

“Yes,” muttered the dark eyed lord. “I found myself longing for the shores of home so returned for my leave. I am glad I did for I have been reunited with Ellinor.” 

The doctor was even more bewildered as he glanced from one young person to another and he blurted, “You know this young woman?!”

“Indeed,” murmured Lord Ottin, an enigmatic smile on his lips. “She and I are bound heart-and-soul.” 

And then, before the doctor could question them further, they strode away. Maddox watched as the lord wrapped his arm around the nurse’s slender waist and she rested her head on his shoulder; he did not notice the two ravens wheeling overhead, nor did he think overmuch on the faint smell of apples that followed them.

Eira’s soft laugh feathered over Loki as they made their way from the hospital towards the road leading into the beautiful Welsh village spread below them. “Poor Dr. Maddox,” she murmured as his arm tightened around her. “He is already unsure of me and now he believes I am some hussy you knew from your days in London.” She raised sparkling eyes to his and his lips twitched in response. 

“Shall we tell him of our true heritage?” he whispered as he leaned down to plant a tender kiss upon the tip of her nose. 

She laughed truly then, the hilarity of that thought making her eyes well with tears. “Oh sweet Eir, no! He would surely lock me away then!” 

They chuckled together but as they neared her tiny cottage she stilled and placed her hand on his arm. “Loki,” she said slowly, her eyes cast down. “I…” she swallowed, and he felt unease wash over him. “I must show you something, so you can understand my actions upon the Bifrost so long ago.” She raised her eyes to his and when he opened his mouth to question her, she shook her head and placed her fingers gently upon his lips, stalling his words. “Nay, it is best for me to show you. But please, you must promise me that you will not react outright. Please, for my sake, keep calm.” Her gray eyes were dark with worry and he nodded slowly, fear making his blood run cold. 

She smiled gently and turned to push open the gate in front of her cottage. “It is no trap, my love,” she said over her shoulder as he hesitated by the wood shingle naming her home. 

“Sigyn’s Cottage,” it read and his eyes widened as his fingers brushed the engraved wood. 

“Very well,” he murmured as he followed her. “I trust you, my love.” 

She sighed in relief and lifted the latch on the door. As she entered the brightly lit cottage she slid out of her coat and hung both that and her hat upon the hooks lining the wall of the entrance. She smiled gently at Loki, her gray eyes mysterious, and his heart leapt once more in his chest as her stunning beauty deepened. She seemed so at peace, so contented in this little home that he felt himself easing, unconsciously forgetting his concerns at the gate. 

“Come in,” she said with a soft laugh and he did, sweeping his hat off as he did, the habit of the mortals nearly engrained in him at this point. 

As she neared the door leading to the main part of the little home she raised a hand to brush back her curls, the slight tremble of her fingers the only sign of her nerves. Then she lifted the latch on that door and entered the warmly lit den, calling softly in their mother-tongue, “Sigrid? Sigrid, I am home my love.” 

Loki entered after her, curious at her language usage and at the name she called. Who was Sigrid? 

He froze directly behind her at the sight of tiny girl about five years old playing before the fireplace. Her straight hair was dark as night and fell forward to frame her aquiline features; she was clothed as the mortal children of this realm in a cotton dress and black Mary Janes, but as he watched her turn to towards where they stood, he wished he could see her clothed in the soft robes of his youth. 

His fingers clenched as her dark emerald green eyes lit at the sight of them standing in the doorway and he gasped as she exclaimed in her mother-tongue, “Mother! I missed you!” 

Then she was running across the den to wrap her arms around her mother’s waist, chattering all the while about their new home, the kittens she had found in the shed behind the cottage and the maid’s promise to take her hunting for shells within the next few days. 

Eira laughed softly at the exuberant chatter of her daughter and knelt before the girl. “Sigrid, darling,” she murmured in the same tongue. “I have someone I wish you to meet.” She glanced at Loki, her gray eyes at once nervous and so unbelievably happy. 

The child ceased her talk and glanced at the towering man standing over them. “Oh hello,” she said in lightly accented English. Her familiar green eyes sparkled at him as she held out her hand for him to shake. “I’m Sigrid Balstad! How do you do?”

He bent so he could clasp her hand and through the rushing in his ears, choked out, in their mother-tongue, “How do you do Sigrid. I’m Lord Loke Ottin.” 

The child stared at him, obviously shocked at the Old Norse spilling from his lips and then her face lit in a beautiful smile and Loki’s eyes fluttered closed in agony. “Oh! You are one of Mother’s friends! How lovely!” she exclaimed cheerfully. “Are you staying for tea? Mother lets me pour sometimes!” She chattered on, darting through the room towards the kitchen and Loki watched her go, still shocked at her presence. 

He then turned his bewildered gaze upon the woman standing at his side. “A child?” he choked out and she nodded slightly. He staggered and she caught him before easing his tall figure into one of the overstuffed chairs near the hearth. “Why did you not tell me?” he whispered as she perched upon the arm. 

She smoothed her fingers through his hair and murmured, “I did not know until several days after you leapt into the Void. I suspected of course, but it was too early to know for certain when we languished in that labyrinth.” She sighed and cupped his chin, pulling his head up so she could meet his eyes. “Now you understand why I fought for you, why I followed you to this Realm. This has always been more than childish love between us Loki.” She bent to place a tender kiss on his lips and then she released her hold. 

He lowered his head in his hands and murmured through his fingers, “Does she know?” 

“No,” Eira said with a tender smile. “I did not want to tell her until I found you.” 

He sighed. “Does Thor know?” His blood ran cold at the thought of his brother knowing and his mind flashed to the two ravens who sometimes visited him. He would not be surprised if the All Father knew.

“Yes,” she said, her fingers resuming their tender stroking. “He was the one who aided me in finding which Realm you had cast yourself too. My father does not know though; he simply believes I am lost amongst the stars. I mean for him to keep thinking that too,” she said, her voice harsh at the remembered cruelty she’d been dealt by her parents. 

Loki glanced at her and she smiled lovingly upon him. “Have I shocked you, truly, Loki?” she asked, her eyes mischievous. 

“You have honored me,” he whispered as he reached out to pull her into his lap. She gasped a little laugh as his hands wrapped around her and as he kissed her lips she smoothed her hands over his chest to tangle themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck. She shivered as his hands ran over her legs, rucking the silk stockings she wore; he playfully snapped the garter holding them in place and her eyes fluttered closed as his fingers stroked her through the soft cotton underdrawers she wore. “You impossible woman,” he whispered. “I should have known the moment you arrived in my prison that you were meant for me.” 

“Yes, you really should have,” she whispered back. “Why in all the Realms were you so pigheaded back then?” 

She laughed quietly as he snorted and both adults jumped at the sudden arrival of Sigrid. Eira straightened in his arms as Loki arranged her more decorously against his lap, his fingers surreptitiously tugging her skirt straight. 

Sigrid gazed at them thoughtfully and then turned her lovely green eyes in his direction. “Well,” she said seriously. “Will you be staying for tea Lord Ottin?”

Loki gazed at his daughter with contented wonder in his eyes and he murmured as he pressed a kiss to her mother’s cheek, “Aye, Sigrid. I will be staying for tea, if you will have me.” 

The child smiled, that self-same sunny grin that lit the room earlier, and she clasped her hands tightly together. “Oh good!” she exclaimed. “I would love to have you for tea. Not in a cannibal way, of course, just for cake! You’re welcome to stay for longer than that too, if you wish it.” 

“Aye, I wish that, very much,” he murmured as he stretched out a hand in her direction. She giggled as she placed her hand in his and he brought it to his lips. Then, without preamble she clambered up into their laps

Loki and Eira smiled as she settled her tiny weight against them and he sighed as his arms tightened around their figures. “You have honored me,” he whispered in Eira’s ear. 

She glanced at him and kissed his jaw tenderly. “Nay, it is you who have honored me, Loki Laufeyson,” she whispered back, a loving smile on her lips. 

Their soft laughter seemed to brighten the room and all around them drifted the smell of apples. As the evening progressed, neither noticed the two ravens sitting upon the windowsill, keeping watch with their far-seeing eyes. 

And so Loki Laufeyson, the greatest traitor of the Nine Realms, the dark horned prince of Asgard, lived happily with the cousin of the lost goddess Eir. Despite the sins he had committed he found forgiveness in her arms and they lived at peace upon the mortal Realm of Midgard forever more. None but a few knew of their presence amongst the mortals and when questioned about their whereabouts, those few would gaze into the inky Void, enigmatic smiles upon their faces and they would murmur that Eir’s Legacy had run full-circle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I did. 
> 
> -M


End file.
